A Storm in a Teacup
by AnneM.Oliver
Summary: Hermione thought everything was going great: dream job & new boyfriend. Then she discovers she's 6 wks pregnant, with another man's child! To make matters worse, Draco Malfoy is trying to blackmail her into teaching 2 children he claims are his. Dramione
1. Chapter 1

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 1 – She's Late, She's Late, for a Very Important Date  
**  
Checking her watch one last time, though she knew it was futile, Hermione Granger cursed herself as she ran to the Floo. She was late. Painfully, terribly, irrevocably, irrefutably, without a doubt late.

And it was no one's fault but her own. More so, she was late in every conceivable meaning of the word!

She didn't even have time to change her blouse, nor the presence of mind to clean it with magic! This morning, while eating her toast and tea, she felt nauseated, and while rushing to the loo, she knocked the strawberry jam over on her blouse. Too occupied with 'tossing her crumpets' to care about the red stain, it was only when she DID notice it that she also noticed the time on the clock over her mantel.

Therefore, she rushed to her Floo, opened the entrance, threw in the powder, announced her destination, and in a flash was standing in the busy hallway outside a Healer's office at St. Mungo's.

Steeling her shoulders back, reminding herself of her Gryffindor Pride, she walked over the threshold, up to the Mediwitch at the desk and announced, "Hello, my name is Hermione Granger, I'm here to see Healer Greenway, and I'm late."

Two hours later, she sat alone at a booth in a coffee shop in Diagon Alley, her hands holding a now cold cup of coffee, and for the first time in her entire life, Hermione didn't know what she was going to do. She was pregnant.

She had an important meeting with a client that started twenty minutes ago, but she didn't care one iota. She was twenty-nine years old, with her own highly, successful business, and she was happily dating a wonderful man (even if it was for only three weeks, he was still wonderful) for the first time since separating from her boyfriend of five years last March, and she hardly gave a whit.

Because in case no one knew, and in case no one cared, she was late. Terribly, terribly late.

Translation – her life was finally going great, on track, going as planned and now she was exactly six weeks pregnant, and the father was someone she had only dated once, and out of character, slept with once…and now…this!

She was in a terrible pickle, to put it mildly. When she was little, she used to play up the littlest things. She was always a very dramatic child, making 'mountains out of molehills' or in the words of her father, creating 'a storm in a teacup'. She wondered what her father would think now. Would he consider this a problem, or was she blowing everything out of proportion?

Perhaps this wasn't the end of the world.

Just because she was pregnant didn't mean her life had to end! Her new boyfriend might relish the idea of her getting big and fat. He might find swollen ankles attractive. Vomiting had its charms, didn't it? He might like the thought of marrying her someday, and raising another man's child. And just because her business was in the magical world, (which still frowned upon unconventional things such as single motherhood) didn't mean that the business that she had started from the ground up would come tumbling down around her.

And just because she was now over an hour late for the biggest appointment of her career didn't mean that she was doomed.

Nevertheless, it did.

She stood from the booth, went outside, and felt a big fat raindrop fall right on her nose. She looked up at the heavens and said, "Really? You have to rain right now! Really? A storm in a teacup wasn't enough, but you had to give me a real storm now?"

"Talking to yourself?" someone said from behind her. She spun around quickly and looked upon the amused face of Draco Malfoy. He stood under a large black umbrella, and he quickly looked at his watch. "You were late for our meeting. I waited for you at your office, and when you didn't come, I left to find you, and where do I find you, but leaving a bar, obviously drunk and deranged. That's no way to run a business, Granger. Shame on you."

Hermione cocked her head to the side. Another raindrop hit her on the cheek, slid down her jaw, and landed on her blouse next to her 'red strawberry' stain. He quickly stepped closer, placing her under the umbrella with him, and said, "You have a red stain on your blouse."

Ignoring his comment concerning her blouse, she pushed him away so that he wasn't so close to her, and stepped under the awning of the coffee shop before she spoke. "This isn't a bar, you ninny, it's a coffee shop. See the large cup of coffee on the window, with the words 'Coffee Shop' written underneath? Besides, I'm not pissed, and many people talk to themselves!"

"Deranged people," Draco interjected.

"No, perfectly normal people," she argued.

He closed the umbrella, leaned his shoulder against the wall, placing him under the awning as well, (and too close to her, in her opinion). "I have news for you, Miss Granger. Perfectly normal people don't talk to themselves. They don't stand around in the rain. They don't keep important clients waiting while they go have drinks in a pub. They don't have blood all over their blouses." He reached out and touched her shirt with his index finger, right over her left breast. She swatted his hand away. He continued, "And they keep their appointments."

"I've had a bad day," she explained, "and this is strawberry marmalade."

He reached out and touched her shirt again, and then brought his finger up to his mouth. "It tastes like blood," he said with a smirk.

"You're sick," she sneered with a frown.

"And you're still deranged." He opened his umbrella and said, "Walk with me, you crazy woman." He didn't give her room to broker a reply. He merely began to walk, and she had to follow if she wanted to listen. Oh, and he had her arm in his hand.

She ran under his umbrella, practically running to keep up with his long strides. "This is your lucky day, Granger," he announced.

"Ha!" she barked. "That's what you know."

He glanced at her sideways, but kept walking, until they reached the curb. He stopped, dropped her arm for a moment to place it slightly in front of her, which she found incredibly charming and chivalrous. The thought of him being either made her want to vomit again, (Well, that and being slightly preggers). She looked up at his face just as he once again reached for her arm, pulling her across the street with him.

Feeling slightly confused and ill at ease with the way he was practically 'manhandling' her, she still followed. He was leading her back to her business: _The Granger School for the Gifted.  
_  
Leading her up to her office, he told her assistant, "Hold all her appointments and Owls, Peggy," and then he walked into her office as if he owned the placed.

Hermione remained in the opened doorway, standing in the outer office, and she said, "Malfoy, her name isn't Peggy."

"Are you certain?" He turned to face Hermione.

"I've known her for fourteen months," Hermione leveled. "I think I know her name."

Draco pushed Hermione out of the doorway, leaned out and said, "Is your name Peggy?"

"No, Mr. Malfoy. I told you my name when you arrived. It's Marcia," the young woman said, smiling, looking perfectly happy for the man to call her anything that he wished.

"Hmm, Marcia? Are you sure? I could have sworn it was Peggy. You look like a Peggy." He smiled at the young witch and winked at her, his hands on the doorframe, his body leaning outside the door. Hermione rolled her eyes and pushed him the rest of the way back into her office.

She said, "You're scum, Malfoy."

"Because I take the trouble of learning your employees' names?" he asked, innocently.

"HER NAME IS MARCIA!" Hermione said, stomping her foot. Suddenly, Hermione realized they were not alone in the office. She saw a dark-haired young girl of about fourteen sitting in a chair in the corner, with an equally dark-haired young boy of about ten standing beside her.

She walked over to them and said, "Oh, hello. I'm sorry, I didn't see you there. What may I do for you?"

Draco pulled on her sleeve again. This time, he was gentler, as if he was unsure if she would follow. Hermione looked at the hand on her arm, then up into Draco Malfoy's silver eyes. He cocked his head to the side and said, "Over here for a moment, Granger."

She walked to the corner of her office with Draco. In low, quiet tones he said, "They were the reason for your appointment with me today, and the reason I led you back here. I didn't know if you could get back here yourself, in your drunken state, that is."

Hermione took a long breath in through her nose, and exhaled it out her mouth. It was a steadfast policy of hers not to hit adults in the presence of children. She clenched her hands at her sides and said, "Continue."

He smiled. He could see that he had raised her hackles. She was really lovely when she was angry, strawberry marmalade, raindrops, and all. "I've seen that look before, and from you. You really want to hit me right now, don't you?" he whispered, leaning closer to her.

She whispered back, "Almost more than anything, but I'll wait until you tell me who the children are first."

He averted his face, smiled, but not for her to see. He leaned away, calmed his features, and said, "The meaning for our meeting today was for us to talk about a large endowment for your school, remember?"

"Yes, I recall, and I truly am sorry I was late, and I swear, I want to reschedule," she said, her face softening. She walked around to her desk and sat down. He sat on the corner of her desk, facing her, with his back toward the children. "What does one thing have to do with the other? Who are the children?"

Pointedly avoiding her question, he snapped, "No, no rescheduling."

She sighed, openly, loudly, and long, before adding, "Then why are you still here, and why are these children here? Answer me now. Who are they? What do they have to do with our missed meeting?"

He shook his head and said, "Granger, there's no rescheduling our meeting because the endowment is yours. I'll offer the grant to your school, fund it entirely for the next five years, no questions asked, in fact, I have the cheque right here in my pocket."

She glared at him, raised a finger, said, "One moment, Malfoy," and then moved to look around him. She said, "Children, I'm sorry we weren't introduced, and I'll take care of that later, but do you mind going out in the hall for a bit?"

Draco turned toward them and said, "Yes, go see if you can help Peggy do some filing or something. She doesn't seem that bright to me."

The girl stood up from her chair and took the boy's hand and they quietly left the office, closing the door behind them.

Hermione stood, her thigh touching Malfoy's knee as he sat on the edge of her desk. With her sternest 'teacher's face' she pointed her finger at him again and said, "Now, explain yourself! Why are you suddenly willing to give me millions of galleons for no apparent reason, and who in the world are those children?"

He smiled, a closed mouth, almost evil, smile. "There's a good reason why I'm willing to give you that money. It won't be for nothing. Those children are Marie and Jeffrey Ellington. They're Muggle-borns who have never been exposed to magic in any sense. Marie should have gone to Hogwarts two years ago, but her mother wouldn't let her. Jeff's of an age that he should be going this coming fall. They need taught, Granger. That's where you come in."

"Um, that's not what my school does, Malfoy," she said lightly, her tone softer. She looked back to the now empty chairs and felt a pang of remorse for the children who left them. "I feel badly for them, but this school is for magically gifted children."

He stood up and looked her up and down and said, "Yes, but you're a teacher."

"Well, yes…"

"So teach them!" he hissed. "They don't know anything about magic! Everything is foreign to them. I can't send them to Hogwarts in the fall, being at such a disadvantage! It would be grossly unfair to them, and cruel."

She struggled for the right words as she sat back in her seat. "Malfoy, the thing is, I don't have the classes that would be right for them here, either. They would be even more out of place here than at Hogwarts. Besides, the summer holidays are about to begin, and we only have minimum classes during the summer months."

"Listen, you have a great staff here, right?" he asked.

"The best," she answered, unabashed. He smiled again. "Oh, I see. You want me to find them a tutor, is that it? Someone to prepare them for school? They would have to take their studying at home, because I don't have the space here for them, at least, not in the beginning, but I might be able to work something out."

She stood and walked over to a file cabinet in the corner of the room. "Let me look at my employee files. As I said, it's the start of the summer term so we only have limited classes. I'm sure I can find someone."

She immediately felt him standing behind her. His body radiated such warmth that she felt it instantly, even before she heard him or felt his breath upon the back of her neck. He was all together too close, too warm, and too everything. She felt discombobulated and slightly off-kilter by his nearness. Either that, or her morning sickness was rearing its ugly head in the middle of the afternoon.

Trying hard not to notice the large, good smelling man behind her, she couldn't ignore him as he reached his hand beside hers and closed the file cabinet. "No," he said, emphatically, still standing behind her.

She turned to face him as he placed each arm beside her body, caging her in like an animal. "No? No what?"

He couldn't remember her being this small, but then again, no one 'grew' smaller, did they? It must be that he was taller than the last time they had been this close to each other. She was well proportioned, that was certain. She smelled good, strawberry marmalade and all. Her hair was still unruly, but that added to her charm, as did her slight pout, which she displayed whenever she seemed bemused, upset, or angry, which was 99 percent of the time.

He announced, "No, it has to be you. I want you to teach them."

"Why me?"

"Don't make me say it," he pleaded, pushing away from the file cabinet.

"Seriously, why me?" she asked again.

He swallowed, and looked suddenly as if he tasted something foul and she laughed. "Oh, because I'm the best, and you don't want to admit that, right?"

"I hated that you did better than me in school," he winced. "But yes, you're the best."

"Malfoy, now's not a good time for me. I've got…issues, but I'll find someone good for them, I swear."

"No, it has to be you," he said, "or no endowment for your school."

"That's blackmail!" she harped.

He brought his hands up in the air and laughed. "See how smart you are! You recognized blackmail right away!"

"What's the relationship between you and the children, anyway?" she asked, stepping away from the file cabinet. Draco stepped toward the middle of the room and shrugged, then said something softly under his breath. She leaned forward to listen, but didn't hear. "What? I didn't hear you."

"They're mine," he said louder, his arms folding in front of him. "Now, will you do it not?"

* * *

Chapter End Notes:

_hmmm….how could Malfoy, who couldn't be much older than 28 or so in this story, have a Muggle-born daughter around 13 years old? Also, don't you wonder who Hermione's boyfriend is, and who the father of her child is? So many possibilities. These and other questions will be answered in the next installment of…."A Storm in a Teacup."_

Oh…and the story "Photographs and Memories" is on hiatus, because I'm not in the mood for an emotional story right now. The last few chapters of "The First Stone" will be sent to my beta soon, and is completely done. I have the first chapter of the second installment of "The Seven Deadly Death Eaters" done, starring Snape. It's somewhat different.  



	2. Chapter 2

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 2 – Draco Knows Something Hermione doesn't Know  
**  
Draco Malfoy had just threatened to blackmail Hermione Granger. However, she was going to ignore that little piece of malfeasances for a moment, to satisfy a little piece of curiosity of her own.

"What's the relationship between you and the children, anyway?" she decided to ask as she stepped away from the filing cabinet, closing the upper drawer as she did.

Draco stepped toward the middle of the room, shrugged, and then said something softly under his breath. She leaned forward to listen, but did not hear. "What? I didn't hear you."

"They're mine," he said louder, his arms folding in front of him. "Now, will you do it not?"

She frowned with her whole face and argued, "No they're not."

"Yes they are," he argued back.

"Draco Malfoy, those are not your children," she debated once more. "They don't even look like you! You said the girl was at least two years past Hogwarts admissions age, making her at least 13 or 14 years old, and the boy is at least 10. You're a bit younger than I am, so somehow the math doesn't quite add up."

"Perhaps they look like their mother," he quipped, walking around her. "Perhaps I was an early bloomer, starting young and all of that."

She looked at the large calendar over her desk, though she didn't need to do so as she knew the date exactly, having had consulted the calendar an amazing number of times during the last few days (to count her days past her menstrual cycle). "This is May 23rd, and your birthday is June 5th, making you 29 this June. You are not the father of those children. I would have remembered you having your first child around 15 or 16. That was a busy year for you, as I recall."

He glared at her. He didn't like being reminded of the year their headmaster was killed. He approached her slowly and said, "Perhaps I took great pains to hide my pregnancy. I was always a slim sort."

She hit his arm and said, "Oh, do be serious!"

"Listen," he sighed, "I don't mean they're mine, as in, my sperm, my DNA, my flesh and blood. Marie is 13 years old, and Jeff is small for his age, but he just turned eleven." He turned away from her, only to turn back around quickly to add, "And how do you know my birthday? Are you secretly in love with me? Do you know any other interesting tidbits about me?" He leaned forward on her desk, arms in front of him, face next to her face.

"You were born June 5th!" she yelped, pushing him away from her. "And I just know that because I just know that, okay?" she said seriously.

He batted his lashes at her, sat on her desk again and said, "Since you know so much about me, what's my favourite colour? What's my middle name? How old was I when I lost my virginity?"

She growled, closed her eyes, and then answered, "Black, Abraxas, and seventeen." When she opened her eyes, he was staring at her, shocked. She laughed, and more to herself, than to him, said, "Hey, I do know everything."

He stared at her in awe for a moment, and then relaxed. "Not quite everything, you got one of those wrong. My favourite colour is green." He picked up a card from her boyfriend that was on her desk and pulled it out of the envelope. "What's this?"

"What does it look like?" she harped back. She pulled the card from his hand and stuck it back in the envelope.

He said, "It looked like a mushy card from some lovesick fool."

"It's a card from my boyfriend," she explained, pulling open the top drawer of her desk to stick the card inside it. She closed the drawer, almost on his hand, as he was trying to pull it back out to have another look. "Do you mind?"

"Do I mind that you have a boyfriend who is apparently a lovesick fool and who gives you mushy cards? Not in the least. He won't get in the way of what I'm about to propose," he laboured. He jumped back down from her desk, walked around to the front of it again, and asked, "Who are you dating? I know you broke up with Weasley a couple of years ago."

"I'm dating Anthony Goldstein," she smiled.

"Ugh!" He stuck out his tongue. "That man is a swine. A true and utter…truly…I mean…even you can do better!"

She stood in indignation and shouted, "What does that mean!"

"Let's not fight. We have a lot to discuss about our arrangement," he began.

"You mean your blackmailing scheme," she interrupted.

"You call it blackmail; I call it an arrangement, but whatever, yes, about that. Let's go out for a spot of dinner tonight, and I'll explain everything to you. I have to get the children back to the house first, though." He started out the door, as if it were all decided. She spoke out, "Wait, Malfoy, please!"

He turned before he reached the door.

"I don't want to have a spot of dinner. The truth is, I'm tired, my stomach is a bit upset, and I don't think my boyfriend would want me to go out with you. Remember my boyfriend? I told you about him only a moment ago," she reminded, coming to stand in the middle of her office.

"I'm trying hard to forget him, if you want the truth," he relayed. "It's not as if this is a date, anyway, as if I would go out with you. It's just to lay out our contract."

She stared at him for a full five seconds, trying to decide if he was worth hexing or not. Finally, she decided he wasn't. "Please, tell me everything now, and I'll let you know my decision now."

"But, Granger," he said, raising his brows, approaching slowly, "your decision is already made for you."

"What do you mean?" She backed away from him, her bum hitting the front of her desk. He stood in front of her, TOO CLOSE again.

"You will take the money, because I happen to know your little school, though highly thought of, is just beginning, and is yet to be making money. You need this endowment, so you will spend the summer teaching my children what they need to know before they enter Hogwarts. I'll send an escort to your house to collect you around eight."

"Eight?"

"What now?" He turned to face her again, his arms in the air, a look of total exasperation on his face. "What's wrong with eight o'clock?" he barked.

"That's awfully late," she complained. She placed a hand on his chest and pushed him away, then went back to sit in her chair. "I told you, I'm tired. I need to get to bed early."

Facing the door, he murmured with a laugh, "Alcoholism does wear a person down, or so I've heard," but he said it loud enough for her to hear, which he intended. He didn't intend for her to throw an inkwell past his head. It hit the wall, splattered, ink and glass going everywhere.

He turned back around slowly, expecting to see angry brown eyes staring back at him. Instead, she had her forehead resting in her left hand, her elbow propped up on the desk, her eyes closed. Confused, he approached her slowly. She looked more than just tired. She looked overwrought and upset, and not by his gentle teasing and mocking. He knew she could handle him in a heartbeat, if that were the case.

Deciding to treat her gently, he asked seriously, "Would you have a few moments to speak with me now? Over another cup of coffee?"

Still not looking up at him, she nodded.

"Let me take the children home and I'll meet you back at that bar in an hour." She looked up at that misnomer, so he smiled. "Correction, coffee shop, where I found you earlier today. Is that amendable?"

Still not speaking, and acting rather like a petulant child, she nodded again.

"My treat, too," he added with another smile.

She nodded a third time.

"And come unarmed, without any inkwells, and if you're a good girl, I might even let you have a biscuit or two, or maybe even a firewhiskey," he added with a wink.

He had pushed it too far. She frowned and demanded, "Get out of here. I'll see you at the coffee shop in _two hours_! I have work to do." He quickly left her office. As soon as he left, she placed her head on her desk and sighed.

Draco Malfoy's suggestion was an interesting one, and one she wasn't sure she could pass up. She did need money for her school. It had been in operations for two years, the initial capital was just now starting to run out, and she refused to charge tuition. She wanted all children who were magically gifted to be able to attend her school, whether they could afford to pay or not.

She had classes for children who were primary school age, classes for children who were Hogwarts age, and classes for students to help prepare for NEWTS and OWLS. She also gave additional instructions in certain subjects if students showed aptitudes beyond that which were normal in traditional subjects, such as transfiguration and charms.

This was her life's passion, she needed money to keep it going, and the truth was she liked the teaching side of her business more than the administrative side. Her partner, Padma Patil, actually liked the administrative side better. Also, she might like to teach these two children, who knew absolutely NOTHING about magic. It might make her feel worthy and give her purpose. It would be challenging and rewarding.

It also might take her mind off her own problems.

Such as…how was she going to tell her parents that at twenty-nine years old, going on thirty, she was pregnant and unmarried. How was she to tell her friends? How was she to tell her new boyfriend, Anthony Goldstein, who was such a rare find?

And how was she to tell the father of the child?

She went out with the father of her child only once. They went to a wedding together. It was a wedding of a mutual friend, and originally, they were only going to drive together, because their friend was marrying a Muggle-born, so the wedding was being held at a Muggle resort. The father of her child didn't drive, being a pureblood wizard, so she offered to drive him.

He told her they should just make it a date.

She was secretly thrilled, because she had liked the man for a while. They went to the wedding and reception together, had a bloody fabulous time, and ended up spending the night together in her room. That alone was so out of character for her, but this man was the first man she had wanted to date and had actually liked since breaking up with Ron, and she wanted to do something different and daring.

When she woke up the next morning, he was gone. He Disapparated away, without a note, a goodbye, or anything, and that was the last Hermione had ever seen of him. She didn't even know where he was at the moment, nor did she care to know. She wasn't going to include him in her child's life. If he didn't have the common courtesy at least to tell her that she was a 'nice shag', then good riddance to him.

He made her feel like a piece of rubbish and for that reason alone, she never wanted to see him again. The wizarding world was a small one, and eventually he would find out she was pregnant. He might even start to suspect the child was his.

Hermione started pacing in front of her desk, worried. She hadn't thought of that! He came from a very old and proud pureblood family, so the likelihood was he and his family wouldn't want anything to do with her and her baby, but she couldn't take that chance.

She had to formulate a plan of some sort. She might even have to go away for a while after she started to show. To do that, her business - her precious school - had to be secure. That meant she would have to accept Draco Malfoy's offer for the endowment!

She walked out to the hallway and said to her assistant, "Peggy, will you get a hold of Padma Patil and Harry Potter for me?"

"Of course, Hermione, but…my name is Marcia," the young woman corrected.

Hermione hit her forehead with her hand. "Malfoy's influence is rubbing off on me, sorry, Marcia." She walked back into her office and sat down. After she met with Harry and Padma, she would get ready to meet with Malfoy.

Draco loaded the children in the Muggle car he had just bought. If Granger didn't agree to teach these children, he didn't know what he would do. He didn't know anything about children, and he knew he didn't have the patience to teach them what they needed to know to get them ready for school.

For the last six weeks, he had kept their existence in their world a secret, but soon, very soon, he would have to tell everyone about them, starting with Granger, today. He would also eventually have to tell his parents, though he wasn't looking forward to that part.

"Mr. Malfoy?" Marie asked from the backseat. "Is that woman going to teach us about magic?"

Draco looked in the rearview mirror and answered, "Marie, I asked you to call me Draco, and yes, I believe she will."

"She acted almost as if she didn't like you very much," she added.

He laughed and said, "Oh, no, you're wrong there. She doesn't like me a lot, but still, she'll teach you, and she'll like you both, don't worry about that. She's a nice woman, and very smart. She's a gifted witch."

Marie inquired, "Why doesn't she like you?"

"Too many reasons to mention," Malfoy replied.

"Did she know our father?" Marie asked.

Draco looked pensive for a moment. How could he explain that to a young girl? A girl who knew nothing about magic and their world. "Yes, your father knew Hermione Granger, and she knew him as well. Our world isn't a large world, unlike the Muggle world. Everyone knows at least OF other people, and Granger, well, she's famous in our world. You'll find out all about that later."

Draco turned around quickly to look at Jeffrey. "Jeff, everything alright back there?"

The boy merely nodded. He hadn't spoken one word since his mother and father died. Draco had taken him to all the best Healers, and even to a few Muggle doctors, and they all said the same thing: there was nothing medically wrong with him. It was psychological, and he would talk when he wanted to talk. He stopped talking the night his mother and father died, and hadn't said a word since."

"Mr. Malfoy?" Marie asked again.

"Draco," he corrected.

"Draco," she repeated, "are you sure we're safe at your house?"

Draco's jaw clenched and he was glad the children couldn't see it from their place in the backseat. "Yes, you're safe. The problems with the Muggle authorities have been taken care of, and since I'm your godfather, I now have custody of you. In the wizarding world, a godparent is a very important person in a child's life. Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to you. I promised your father I'd take care of you, and I will. You belong to me now."

He looked in the mirror again just in time to see the two children exchanging glances. He meant it, too. No one and nothing was taking these children from him. He promised their father, who was a wizard, and one of the best friends he had ever had, that if anything ever happened to him, he would take care of them and protect them…and he would. Draco hadn't followed through with many honourable things in his life, but by golly, he would with this one.

"You'll be okay at the house tonight with Mrs. Jenkins, won't you?" Draco asked. Mrs. Jenkins was an older witch whom Draco had hired as a sort of housekeeper, and nanny for the children. He had house-elves as well, but both children seemed somewhat scared of the elves, so he hired this woman. Besides, they needed adult supervision when he worked and was away.

"Yes, we'll be fine," the girl answered for her and her brother.

"Good," Draco replied. He didn't know how much time he needed to convince Hermione Granger to do this one little thing for him, but he knew it was important, for many more reasons than even she knew.

* * *

Chapter End Notes:

_It seems to me that Draco is still hiding something. I hope that we will all find out everything during the next chapter. It's sad that little Jeff can't (or won't) speak, isn't it? Still so many questions._


	3. Chapter 3

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 3 – Just Sit Right Back While Draco Tells part of a Tale**

Picking up her purse, Hermione looked around her office one last time, while doing a mental check-off list in her mind. She told her business partner, Padma Patil, and Harry Potter that she was going to be gone from her school for a couple of months. She told her parents as well. Now, all she had to do was tell Malfoy that she accepted his proposition for a job, and then all would be well.

Still, she felt as if she was forgetting something, but then again, that was the story of her life these days. If she hadn't forgotten birth control six weeks ago, things might have been a bit different about now. Forgetting her steadfast rule of 'no sleeping with a man on the first date' didn't serve her well this go 'round, either. With no time to dwell on her problems, (or her propensity toward forgetfulness) she used her wand to turn off the lights in her office, as she rushed out the door, once again late for a meeting with Draco Malfoy.

She walked rapidly down the stairs and out the front door of her school. At the bottom of the steps, her eyes lifted slowly up to the sign. _'The Granger School for the Gifted'_ embossed in large letters in the stone, loomed over the front doors. Turning away from the school, she started toward the coffee shop to meet Malfoy.

Right after he left she met her business partner, Padma Patil, and she told her that their money problems would soon be over. Not elaborating more than that, she explained that she was going to have to take a short sabbatical, but that when she returned she would go back to teaching, though in her absence they would find a good replacement teacher. Leaving her school was difficult, but it would be necessary. She needed time away from everything to examine her options.

She would propose this to Malfoy this evening. She would suggest to him that she stay with the children for the next two months, giving them '24 hour' instruction – just long enough for her to sort out her personal problems, find the father of her baby, and figure out what she was going to do with her life. She knew she was leaving her school in capable hands with the former Ravenclaw.

Padma was intrigued when Hermione told her they had finally had an endowment large enough to keep their school running for at least five years, and being a former Ravenclaw, her brain started working right away. Hermione was inundated with questions from the beautiful Indian… "Where is the money coming from again?" and "How long will you be gone?" and "How can it be a sabbatical and work related at the same time?"

Hermione was vague with her answers. "The money is coming from a wealthy benefactor who wishes to remain anonymous," and "I might be gone a few months" and "It's a working vacation."

Then, Harry had shown up at her office, so Padma left, promising Hermione that she would keep the school running in tip-top shape while she was gone.

Harry stayed by the doorway and asked, "Where are you going?"

"On holiday," she lied. "More like a sabbatical, only, it's work related, but, well, I can't say more."

Harry laughed and said, "You could hardly say much less, either." He took her hand and led her to the chairs in the corner, where earlier today Marie sat with her brother, Jeffrey. "Now, why did you want to see me?"

She wanted to tell Harry everything, but as usual, she also wanted to keep things from him if she thought the knowledge of something might hurt him. Nonetheless, would he be hurt if he knew she was pregnant? Probably not. However, he would definitely be hurt if he found she kept her pregnancy from him, so she was walking a fine line by not telling him. That was the story of their relationship. Each kept things from the other if they thought the other could be hurt, and each told the other everything and anything. Hermione would never trade their strange but wonderful relationship for anything in the world.

"Hermione?" he asked again.

"Sorry, I was woolgathering," she nervously replied. "What did you ask?"

"Why am I here?"

"I don't know," she said back seriously. He glared at her, she glared back. Finally, she remembered, laughed, and elaborated, "Goodness, Harry, I'm sorry. I swear my mind's in a million places. As I told Padma, I'm going away on a sort of working holiday, to fulfill the bequest of an endowment that was left for our school. I think I might be gone for a few months."

"Really? Who left you this money, and where are you going? What type of work are you going to be doing? When are you leaving?"

"Goodness, so many questions. It's part of the benefactor's bequest that I not mention the particulars," she answered cryptically. "The thing I want from you, however, is a favour."

He didn't answer right away, apparently mulling over whether or not he wanted to let the matter of her going away without anyone knowing where, rest or not. He came back to that point of contention to ask her, "What favour?"

She pulled a piece of paper out of the pocket of her skirt and handed it to him. "Will you find this man for me?" The name of her baby's father was written in her neat handwriting on a small piece of parchment. She knew that Harry didn't like the man in question for numerous reasons, but that didn't matter. She needed to find him. He had the right to know she was pregnant before anyone else knew. Even if he didn't want anything to do with her or her baby, he had a right to know.

Harry studied the name on the paper for a moment. "Why do you want to find this git?"

"Harry," she scolded, adding, "Please."

He growled low in his chest, balled the paper in his fist and asked again, "Why, Hermione?"

"Isn't it enough that I've asked you to do it for me?" She placed a hand on his arm.

"If I find him, what then? You'll be gone. How do I _find you_?" he asked, flippantly.

She stood up and said, "You won't. I'll find you. I'll Owl you in a couple of weeks. Please do this for me, Harry, but don't tell anyone, and if you find him, don't tell him I'm looking for him." She started toward the door.

He stood. "Hermione?"

Turning to face him, she answered, "Yes, Harry?"

Stepping closer to her, almost so that they were nose to nose, he replied, "If you leave, and don't contact me within a week, I'm coming to find you instead. Understand?"

She nodded. She understood perfectly. "Harry, I'm not running away. I actually am going away to fulfill a commitment to the school. I'm going to be teaching a young Muggle-born girl and boy, both whom have never been exposed to magic. I can't say much more yet, because I don't know much more. I'll let you know where I am when I get there, so you can write to me, okay."

He rolled his eyes and quizzed, "When was the last time I wrote to you?"

She smirked and said, "What I meant to say was that I'll let you know where I am when I get there, so I can continue to write to you, and never get a reply back." She laughed.

He smiled, leaned forward, and kissed her cheek. He walked out the door before her and she watched him go, knowing in her heart that he would find the father of her baby. Her predicament was, after Harry found the man, what would she do then?

She was still contemplating that same thought when she stepped in front of the coffee shop two and a half hours after Malfoy left her office. She looked inside the front window and found that he wasn't there. Seemed he was late, too.

Folding her arms around her middle, she decided she would wait a few more minutes for him outside, but no more, when someone tapped her on the shoulder. Turning swiftly, she looked up into the dark brown eyes of Anthony Goldstein.

He smiled at her, his hands going to her upper arms. Instead of embracing him, greeting him, or smiling back, she slapped her forehead with the flat of her hand and said, "Oh, I knew I was forgetting something! I forgot to tell Anthony!"

Laughing slightly, he asked, "Tell me what, HG?" Before she could answer, he leaned down and kissed her cheek lightly.

Placing a kiss on his cheek right afterwards, she said, "I forgot to tell you that I was leaving for a while, on a work related sabbatical."

"Wait, that doesn't make sense," he argued, pulling her away from the door just as a man and woman exited the coffee shop. "Sabbatical means vacation. How can you go on a work related vacation?"

Hermione wanted to say,_ "Damn you Ravenclaws!"_ but instead she explained, "An endowment was offered to our school, but I have some work to do in exchange for it, that's all."

Anthony's eyes brightened and he said, "Ah…intrigue, is that it? What sort of work would you have to do for an endowment? An endowment is a donation."

Hermione sighed. She really cared for Anthony, but she was used to being able to use big words with her friends and have them not question their intent before, and he was making everything so much more difficult. "Fine, Draco Malfoy is the benefactor, but he wants me to do some research for him, and I'll be out of town for a couple of months."

Suddenly, Anthony frowned with his whole face. He took her arm again and pulled her farther away from the doorway of the coffee shop. "I don't like you working for, or with, Draco Malfoy, and why would YOU have to do research for him? You're a teacher and a businessperson, and he's, well, Draco Malfoy. What are you hiding, HG?"

"Nothing, really, AG, I'm not hiding a thing," she tried to placate him with a hand on his chest.

Staring up at his questioning eyes, she thought that Anthony really was a sweet man. Their first date was at this very coffee shop, and from day one he called her by her initials 'H.G.' and she called him by his 'A.G.', when he glibly remarked, within ten minutes of their date, that if she ever married him she wouldn't have to change her initials.

If any other man had said that on the first date, within the first ten minutes, Hermione would have run for the hills, but Anthony said it with a spark in his eyes, and a light, affable tone, that she knew he was joking. They went out for another date the next night, and another the night after that, and another and another. For three weeks they had been dating now, and she thought they were starting to have serious feelings toward the other.

Problem was they had yet to have sex.

Hermione wished that for the briefest of milliseconds that they had slept together…because then perhaps she could pass this baby off as his…but as quickly as she thought it, she just as quickly withdrew the thought. She would never, ever lie about such a thing to a man.

Realizing she was daydreaming again, she repeated, "I'm not hiding anything. Draco has legitimate work for me to do, in my field."

"I still don't like it," he offered. "Where will you be? How will I get a hold of you if I need to reach you?"

Hermione leaned against the windowsill. "Goodness, everyone has so many questions for me." She suddenly felt overwhelmed. She hadn't thought any of this through very well. She looked up into Anthony's warm eyes and asked, "AG, do you like children?"

"I don't know what that has to do with anything, but yes, I guess I do," he quipped, sitting beside her. He crossed his legs at the ankles and elaborated, "Especially when they belong to someone else."

Hermione almost giggled at that statement, because it was more on the mark than he knew. "Do you want children someday?" she continued.

He cleared his throat and clasped his hands in front of him. "Goodness, HG, what a serious conversation." He reached over for her hand, wrapping it in both of his. "Why are you asking me this, especially after you've just told me you're going away for a couple of months? That very thing shows me that you aren't ready to get serious with me; otherwise, you would never consider going away for so long. What are you asking? Do you want to be exclusive? You've never shown signs that you wanted to take our relationship beyond what it is, since we haven't even slept together."

Great – she thought. She was damned if she slept with them on the first date and damned if she didn't. Pulling her hand from his, she said softly, so he almost couldn't hear, "I already thought we were exclusive, but I guess I was wrong." Her shoulders slumped and she stood slowly, echoing, "Why am I asking you this, when I just told you that I was going to be away for a couple of months?"

She started into the coffee shop, but he reached for her arm. "Hermione, what's wrong?"

She turned back to him and said something that she didn't want to say, but felt she must. "Anthony, perhaps in light of everything, you should see other people while I'm gone." Leaving him no time for a reply, she hurried into the coffee shop, found a booth near the back and watched the door. If Anthony came in after her, that meant…something, didn't it? She didn't know what it would mean, but it would be important. She continued to watch the door, hoping, praying, and anticipating.

Nothing happened. She ordered a cup of coffee, but left it alone as her head dropped. She stared at the faux wood pattern of the tabletop until she heard the bell over the door chime. She looked up anxiously. It wasn't Anthony. It was only…

"Hey, Granger, sorry I'm late," Draco said, sliding into the seat in front of her.

She cocked her head around his body and looked at the door once more, but no one else entered. Sliding back into place, she looked up at Draco Malfoy and said, "You're not the one that's late. I am, and I accept your offer, with a few contingencies."

He picked up her cup of coffee and took a sip, before placing it back in front of her. "I'm giving you an endowment that will keep your school open and operating in the black for five years or better, and you have conditions to set upon the offer?" Leaning back against the plush booth, he placed his arms up on each side of the back and said, "Shoot, let's hear them. They might be good for a laugh."

"I think the children will need extensive tutoring, more than a mere few hours a day. They need to know everything – I mean everything, about our world and how it works, as well as our laws and history. Marie will be especially behind. I'll have to get a special clearance from the Minister of Magic for the children to perform underage magic outside of school, and we'll have to get them their wands and textbooks, and they'll need to take a trip to Hogwarts before the term starts, and don't you see, Malfoy, a few hours a day isn't going to cut it."

Draco stared at her in shock. SHE WAS ARGUING HIS SIDE! She had said almost everything he had practiced saying to her on his way over here! That was the whole reason he was late - because he wanted to be certain his argument to her was foolproof! He was all set to propose the very thing that he KNEW she was about to propose – but why? Why did Hermione Granger want to come live with him and his godchildren for two months to help them prepare for school?

"Wasn't that Anthony Goldstein I saw outside a while ago?" Draco asked with a glower on his face. He took another swig of her coffee and then set it down.

"That's my coffee," she presented.

Draco smirked and sneered, "I don't care, now answer my question. Wasn't that your little boyfriend? Does he know you're going about propositioning other men?"

With a look of ire on her face, which Draco loved, she sputtered, sitting upright, and through clenched teeth said, "I didn't proposition you, you big ninny! I was trying to say that I thought I should live with the children while I taught them!"

Laughing, he said in a teasing tone, "And where do you suppose the children live? They live with me, Granger darling, so again, I ask, won't your little boyfriend be upset if you come play house with me and the kiddies?"

She moaned and scrambled out of the booth. "I knew this wouldn't work. Forget it. I can't do it. I can't. Keep your money." She picked up her purse and added, "And you can pay for that cup of coffee. You drank more of it than I did."

Weaving through the small crowded space toward the door, she almost made her escape when she felt another man's hand on her arm. Who was it this time? She looked down and saw that it was only Malfoy again.

Without saying a word he escorted her out of the coffee shop. He started walking along the busy lane of Diagon Alley, with Hermione in step beside him. Hands behind his back, he turned to look at her face. She was looking at the pavement below their feet.

He had to tell her the truth, but the truth was something that never came easy for him, and after he did she might not want to teach the children so readily. Perhaps he would tell her only a partial truth. He would keep her on a 'need to know' basis.

Stopping outside the windows of a wizarding equivalent of a department store, Draco stared at the display and said, "The kids' father was my best friend in the world. When I was stuck at the Manor, during the time the Dark Lord was there, this chap helped convince my father that I should go back to school."

Hermione's gaze caught his in the reflection of the window. He continued, "Gor, but I hated that time. It was terrible, and I'm not belittling what you went through, I know it was worse, but I didn't have it so great either. My father didn't want me to go back to Hogwarts, but my friend convinced him that I would be safer there than in my own home. He was right and I was thankful. I owe him for that. He possibly saved my life."

Draco stopped talking and walked into the store. Hermione was forced to follow if she wanted to hear the rest of the tale.

Combing racks of robes, Draco's hands feathered over the tops of them as they hung on the racks and said, "He died in a car accident. He was driving too fast on a narrow road and he missed a turn." Turning to her, he asked, "Did I already tell you that?"

Hermione remained quiet and shook her head no.

Nodding, Draco responded, "Yeah, a stupid Muggle automobile killed a man who could do amazing things on a broom, I tell you."

"Did his wife die in the same accident?" Hermione asked.

Silently, Draco's hands stroked a black robe before him repeatedly, before he looked up and asked, "What?" He had heard her, but he didn't want to answer.

"The kids' mother, his wife, did she die in the same car accident?"

Draco let out a bark of laughter, before he said, "They weren't married. They weren't even together any longer. At one time, they had an elicit affair, what with her being a Muggle and him being a pureblood wizard. He didn't even tell her what he was until after she became pregnant with Marie; because there was the chance that the baby would be magical, which she is."

"But…" Hermione paused. She had many questions. She picked up a man's white dress shirt and folded it and then refolded it before she asked, "But were they at least in love? I mean, they had two children together, so I take it they were together for a while. Did they live together? Did he not marry her because she was a Muggle, or what?"

Draco paused, took the shirt from her hands, his fingertips brushing hers, and he said, "They didn't marry because I doubt very much they were in love. People have sex, have affairs, and have babies even, without being in love, Granger. Don't be naïve."

That one statement cut her to the quick. She stared up at him, hurt written all over her face. He could see it. She could feel it. "I know that, Draco Malfoy, I know that. Just finish your story." Hermione started walking down another aisle, with Draco behind her.

"They dated off and on, always breaking up and getting back together. They fought a lot. She didn't want anything to do with magic, and it was everything he was. Neither of them wanted to get married." Draco stopped talking when he looked up and saw that Hermione was lightly touching a child's christening robes. He stood behind her closely, and took the white, lacy frock from her hands. Placing it back on the table he asked, "Dreaming of what might be someday, Granger?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she answered, though she didn't turn around, less he see the longing in her eyes. Instead, she reached for the small white gown again, only to quickly bring her hand back to her side.

He turned her around by placing his hand on her arm. "My friend and the kids' mother hadn't even had a relationship since Jeff was born. He was still a father to his kids, but she made everything difficult for him at every turn, just like when she refused to let Marie go to Hogwarts, and then, well, he died so suddenly, in that bloody car accident."

He moved down another aisle and leaned against a display case that had men's ties. He pulled a red silk tie through the fingers of his left hand and mumbled, "He didn't die right away. They took him to a Muggle hospital first, but thankfully, our Ministry monitors those types of things, and he was moved to St. Mungo's. I was notified, and I just got to Emergency right before he died. He made me promise, on his deathbed, two things. One of them was that I would take care of his children, no matter what."

Hermione reached for the silk tie he now had dangling from one hand. She pulled it from his grasp and placed it beside his hip, on the table. "What was the other thing?" she asked, curious. She leaned on the case, next to him. He stood up as soon as she did, looked down at her, and brought his hand up to her face. He touched her temple with his index finger, slowly moving a piece of hair away from her face.

"I'll tell you that someday, but don't you want to know what happened to their mother?" he asked slowly, staring deeply into her eyes.

She looked up at him, almost mesmerized by the silver of his eyes. She always thought silver was such a cold colour, but on Draco it seemed warm. "What happened to her?"

* * *

Chapter End Notes:

_So our questions to think about from this chapter are:_

What was the other thing Draco promised his friend on his deathbed?

And - How did the children's mother die?


	4. Chapter 4

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 4 – Isn't he Lovely? Isn't he Nauseating?**

Draco Malfoy reached toward Hermione Granger's temple with his index finger, and he slowly moved a piece of hair away from her face right after she asked him what the second thing he promised his friend on his deathbed was. If only he could tell her, but he couldn't, not yet. Instead, he stared into her deep brown eyes (the warmest eyes he had ever seen) and asked, "I'll tell you that someday, but don't you want to know what happened to their mother?"

She had already assumed that the children's mother died along with the father. Looking up at him, she felt lost, almost mesmerized by the silver of his eyes. She had always thought silver was such a cold colour, but now, suddenly, at least on him, it seemed warm.

Realizing that her assumption that the parents died together might be as erroneous as assuming that they were married, she decided to wait and see what Draco had to say on the matter. For some reason, she had also assumed the children were Muggle-born, but then…that was because Draco had introduced them as such in the beginning. In layman's terms, Draco Malfoy had lied.

Deciding to forget about his warm, silver eyes, and concentrate on his cold, cunning untruths, she asked, "What happened to her?"

Draco sighed and reached for her hair again, absently, not even aware he was essentially stroking her hair. She was, however, highly aware that he was touching her hair, and she felt all right with it. "Let's put it this way – she is indeed gone and will never, ever come back. She's been gone since the night my friend died and it's all her own fault."

Hermione gasped. "How horrible…oh please, don't tell me that she killed herself! This story gets more maudlin every second! Next you'll tell me that little Jeff really was the one that found her and that's why he can't speak! If you tell me that, I don't know what I'll do!" She pushed him away and turned toward another display case, this one housing men's watches. She picked one up so that she had something to do with her hands (instead of clenching them nervously) and examined it closely. Draco took it from her.

He slipped it over his wrist and said, "Yes, the day my friend died, he had just left her house, very early in the morning. The children were still sleeping. He told her that he had finally met someone that he thought he might want to marry someday, and he said that he wanted the kids to move in with him so they could know all about magic." Hermione's shoulder was pressed against his, and she turned to face him as he expanded on his tale.

He slipped the watch off his wrist and handed it back to her. "Not enough bling for me," he replied off handedly. Hermione cocked one eyebrow in the air and whispered, "Bling?" but kept the watch in her hand as he said, "Up until then, the children didn't know much about magic. She kept all of that from them, and he heeded to her wishes, but he finally met someone that he thought he might want to spend the rest of his life with, and she was a witch, so he knew it was time they knew about their birthright."

He laughed and said, "He told me, a few days before he took the woman out on their first date, and I quote, 'I finally have a date with an angel, can you imagine? An angel dating the devil incarnate.' And I laughed and told him he wasn't the devil incarnate, he was merely a faded imitation."

Hermione smiled, because Draco seemed sad, reminiscing about his friend. She placed the watch back in the case and said, "And you would know, as you're the devil incarnate, and everyone knows there's only one devil incarnate."

"But of course, though he was a close second," Draco replied with a wiry grin. He hit her shoulder with his.

"What happened then?" She turned back around to face him.

"Mary, that was their mother's name – can you imagine a name so ordinary or mundane? – didn't take it well, even though they weren't even a couple any longer. Her mental health had been fragile for a long time, and she disappeared right after he told her. The kids woke up and she was gone. I went to tell them about their father, after he died, and found out she was missing as well, and she's been missing ever since."

"Wait a minute," Hermione protested, rather loudly. "You implied she died! You made me believe that she killed herself! You told me several times today that the children were orphaned and that the children's father AND mother were dead, and that Jeff stopped talking from that day onward. Of course, you told me they were Muggle-born, too, and actually, if your friend was pureblood, they're half bloods. Draco Malfoy, are you incapable of telling the truth? Frankly, I feel like throwing up right about now, based solely on all your lies!"

That was a slight lie itself, which meant that Draco's lies were rubbing off on her, though she really did feel slightly nauseated. It was probably more from lack of food, and from being in her first trimester, but also from being close to an ardent liar like Draco Malfoy, because the TRUTH was – she found him…ugh…ever so slightly attractive. She really was going to vomit.

Draco took her hand and ushered her over toward a chair. "You do look a bit green, Granger."

She gave him a dirty look and said, "Do I look green, or are you LYING about that?"

"No," he challenged, "Well, maybe. Instead of green, you might be more chartreuse, but that's a shade of green."

She placed her hand on her forehead and sighed. "Please, tell me the FULL story, and stop lying! First, let's start with the basics. Who was your friend? What was his name? I'm bound to have known him."

Kneeling before her chair, Draco kept her hand in his. For some reason, something surged upwards in her chest, and it wasn't her 'lunch'. It was uneasiness at being so close to him. She really did feel ever so vaguely attracted to him. She hoped it was her strange pregnancy hormones that made a person like HER think that a person like HIM was attractive; otherwise, something was seriously wrong with her. She moaned.

"Seriously, are you going to toss your crumpets?" he asked, folding her hand in one of his, his other hand coming up to touch her cheek.

"Don't touch my face at the moment," she said, sounding silly and not caring, because his hand on her face made her feel flushed as well as nauseous. "Answer my questions. What's the truth, about everything? But first, follow me, I need fresh air." Before he could answer, she stood and started toward the door. This time, he was forced to follow her.

They walked down the sidewalk, and a breeze started blowing in the late afternoon air, which stirred her senses as much as it stirred her hair. She felt more than nauseated. She also felt more than attracted to Draco Malfoy, which made her feel as if she was betraying Anthony, as well as her child's father, even though her child's father had made it perfectly clear that he wanted nothing to do with her, seeing that he left her after they slept together and she hadn't heard from him since.

"Where are we going, Granger?" Draco finally asked, coming into step beside her.

"We are going for a walk, because I felt sick back there, remember? I need some air," she admitted. She swallowed and slowed her gait, turning her face a little to the side, less he saw the flushing of her cheeks. Every muscle in her body coiled and tingled standing close to him, and she didn't like it. She stopped walking and asked, "Now, Draco, please, try very hard, even though I know it will be difficult for you, but try to be truthful with me. First, is the mother of the children dead or just missing, or do you not know? Did you lie?"

Draco wondered what Granger would classify as a lie. He walked around her, a full circle on the sidewalk, before he spoke. "I lied. To the wizarding community, and to the children, they assume she's dead. The Muggle authorities classify her as a missing person, because apparently to them, you can't consider someone dead until seven years. I mean, seriously, seven years, Granger. The children will be of age by then, so give me a break."

"DID YOU KIDNAP THOSE CHILDREN?" Hermione placed a hand over her mouth. Goodness, she was attracted to a kidnapper!

"NO!" He looked outraged. He even pushed her and she stumbled backwards, though he steadied her quickly. "I would never! Wait, what would you consider kidnapping?"

"DRACO MALFOY DON'T BE OBTUSE!" Hermione gasped again and looked around, even though they were in Diagon Alley and there was no danger of the Muggle authorities hearing them speak. "Kidnapping means you took them when you had no just cause and no permission. Now, I'll ask again, do you have custody, legally, with the Muggle authorities, to have these children, because if you don't, I can't teach them!"

She started to pace back and forth in the mouth of an alley, mumbling all sorts of incoherent, as well as coherent phrases. Draco heard, "He's a blackmailer and a kidnapper," clear as day and he also heard, "I can't go to Azkaban. Who will look after my…" but that was all he heard of that sentence.

He placed his arm around her to pull her out of the alleyway, and started walking along the sidewalk again, though he practically had to push her along, and said, "Granger, my dear old friend, would I make you aid and abet a criminal?"

She stopped walking, threw his arm off her shoulder and said, "Yes, you would! Furthermore, to think I was starting to find you attractive moments ago! Now, all I can think is that you're a criminal!"

He smiled, leaned against a storefront and quizzed, "You think I'm attractive? Is it my eyes? Women usually love my eyes. I have a kissable mouth as well. Is it my mouth? Other women love my hair. It's natural, you know. The drapes match the rugs." He winked at her.

She sighed…long and loudly. "You are repulsive and if I stand here one moment longer I will doubt my sanity and I will probably be ill as well. I haven't eaten all day, so I have to go home. Have a nice time…IN PRISON!" She started to storm away, but he caught up with her in no time.

Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her back over to the alleyway, stood with her in the opening and said, "Fine, Granger, I don't have custody of the children by traditional Muggle means, but I'm the godfather, and the Ministry has issued custody to me as far as the magical community is concerned. You can check with them if you want. My solicitor is trying to work things out with the Muggle authorities, okay? Their mother disappeared, and she's not coming back. She's probably dead, even the Muggle police believe that she probably killed herself. She left a note and everything, but without a body, they can't declare her dead."

"Oh," she said, somewhat mollified. She bit on her thumbnail for a moment and said, "That's very sad. Do the children know their mother may not be dead?"

"No, that would be cruel. They think both parents are gone, because I'm sure they are," Draco surmised. "And they also think that they are perfectly safe and sound with me, and I won't have you or anyone else making them feel otherwise." Quietly, he leaned forward and asked, "Are you happier now that I've told you the truth? Have my devil horns been replaced with one of those little halo thingamabobs? Am I still attractive?"

"Are you happier now that you told the truth?" she countered, deciding not to answer the 'attractive' part of his question.

"I don't know. I've never actually told the truth before. I think I may have a slight case of heartburn," he lied, pressing on his chest with his left fist. He coughed twice and then said, "Anyway, that's my story. Now, are you going to come and teach the children?"

"Who's their father? You forgot to tell me that," she recalled.

Draco had hoped she had forgotten that as well. He wasn't ready to be even this forthcoming with her. Hell, he had already told her that their mother might not be dead, which he hadn't intended to tell her. In addition, he told her he didn't have custody through the Muggle courts. What was it about this woman that made him want to be so damn truthful?

Was it the way she looked at him, as if she could already see every secret of his soul?

Was it the fact that she thought he was slightly attractive?

Perhaps it was because he thought she was slightly attractive?

Or maybe it really was an insignificant case of indigestion. Whatever the case, he told her more than he had intended, and now she wanted to know the most important piece of his little puzzle. If he told her that small tidbit, his whole reason for asking HER to be the one to teach the children would become painfully obvious, and frankly, he wasn't prepared to tell her that.

Therefore, instead of listening to her 'siren call' demanding that he tell her all things candidly and truthfully, he would listen to the small, little nagging thought in the back of his mind that said to him, "_You know you find her attractive, and she said she found you attractive earlier, so don't mess things up, Malfoy!"_ If he told her who his friend was, he would, without a doubt, mess things up, so NO, he would not tell her that part of his story…not yet.

Instead of telling her a damn thing, he thought he would ask her out for dinner. She said she hadn't eaten all day, hence her 'greenish/chartreuse' look around the gills. Then he might just kiss her. What would she do if he did that?

Throwing his arm around her shoulders again, in a 'friendly' way (though his pretense was a lie…because he knew the instant he saw her at the coffee shop today that he wanted to be more than friends), he said, "You know what you need, Granger darling? You need someone to take care of you." He smiled down at her.

A look of distrust graced her face as she spied up at him in return. Little did she know that was the second thing he had promised his friend - he had promised to look after the woman his friend 'thought' he loved, which was her.

"Go to dinner with me," he commanded, because it certainly wasn't a request. "We'll go back in the store we just left, buy you a nice little dress, because you can't go anywhere with blood all over you, and we'll have dinner and talk salary, terms, etc, etc, etc." He touched the strawberry jam stain with his index finger again swiftly, and then laughed.

Hermione wondered why his arm around her shoulders felt nice, even natural. Going against her better judgment, she slid her arm around his waist and replied, "This is jam on my blouse, Malfoy, and I can take care of myself. However, everyone has to eat, but we don't have much to discuss. I already told you that I would teach the children. They don't deserve their lot in life, but then again, the good usually suffer, while the evil are rewarded for their wickedness. It seems the way of the world."

"If that wasn't the way, I would never get anything I wanted," he joked.

Tilting her head up to smile at his teasing, her heart flipped in her chest when he smiled back.

Draco reached around the front of Hermione with his free arm and his knuckles brushed down her cheek, carelessly, and she didn't flinch, or feel even remotely sick. She did, however unknown to her, blush, and her eyes brightened and twinkled.

And Draco Malfoy knew that if he didn't bend down and kiss her mouth, right then and there, something was definitely wrong with him, but there was plenty of time for kisses. She was going to be with him and the children in the country, secluded, for two months.

Angling her back toward the store, his arm still around her, he said, "Onward to buy you that dress, and then onward yet beyond that still to dinner, Granger my sweet."

Hermione wondered how she could have started the day thinking that everything was so bleak, and end it on such a high note, but then again, things usually had a way of working out in the end. She also wondered what it was that she had forgotten to find out regarding the children and their story. Oh well, no matter, it would come to her eventually. Draco moved his arm from her shoulder to open the door to the shop, and she had just slipped under it when they both turned at the mention of her name from a man down the street.

"HERMIONE!" Hermione and Draco looked down the street as Harry Potter rushed toward them.

"Mr. Scarface," Draco sneered as a greeting when Harry was within their circle. He leaned against the side of the building, letting the door of the shop close, crossing his ankles and looking down at his nails, acting bored, but feeling anything but.

"Mr. Ferretface," Harry answered in return, looking from Draco to Hermione. "What are you two doing here together?"

"I already told you, I'm going to work for him," Hermione rejoined. "What are you doing here?"

Harry handed her a folded piece of parchment. Draco looked up with interest, as Harry said, "Here's the information on the man you asked me to find. I'm not sure you're going to be happy with what I found out about him, but then again, I don't know why you wanted to find him."

She reached out to take the parchment from him and Draco gasped audibly, because he had an inkling as to whom she probably wanted Potter to find, and he didn't want her to find out the man was dead…not yet.

Chapter End Notes:

_

* * *

The next chapter could begin one of three ways...Draco could snatch the note from Hermione's hand, but then, Harry could always still TELL Hermione what happened to the baby's father. Or...Draco could just grab her and kiss her. Or...She could throw up on him. What do you all think? _


	5. Chapter 5

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 5 – What Would you do if I Sang Out of Tune, Would you Throw up your Crumpets on me?  
**

Facing a quandary the next morning, Hermione Granger wondered if she should pack ALL of her old Hogwarts textbooks to take to Draco's house, or merely the ones from the first year of school. She simply had to bring her copy of 'Hogwarts a History' with her. She also might as well throw in her second and third year Potions books, because one never knew how bright Marie and Jeff might be. It wouldn't hurt to toss in all her Charms and Transfiguration books, too. By the time she sorted through all the books before her, she had more inside the trunk than outside of it.

Staring at all the books she had just packed, she wondered how she was ever going to manage this. She sat down on the floor beside the trunk, picked up her tattered copy of 'Quidditch through the Ages' (a gift from Harry when she was sixteen) and bit her bottom lip. Seeing this book made her worry that this was a mistake, especially after everything that happened last night.

The events of the previous night were all so bizarre that if one really wanted to examine them closely, they would probably think they were the proceedings of a dream, or a movie, or a fascinating work of fan fiction by a talented, but highly overrated author.

Late yesterday afternoon, Hermione and Draco were about to enter a shop to buy her a dress so they could go to dinner, when Harry approached them on the streets of Diagon Alley. In Harry's hand was the same piece of parchment in which Hermione had given him earlier in the day, with the name of the person she had her brief, yet extremely fruitful, one night stand.

With Draco leaning against the building nearby, Harry started to hand her the folded piece of parchment as he explained, "Here's the information on the man you asked me to find. I'm not sure you're going to be happy with what I found out about him, but then again, I don't know why you wanted to find him." Just as she reached out to take the piece of parchment from him, she heard Draco gasp audibly. Turning toward the sound, the strangest thing happened: Draco reached out and grabbed the piece of parchment right from her hand and he hastily stuffed it in his coat pocket.

She was about to protest, when he did an even stranger thing.

Draco Malfoy opened the door to the shop before them and pushed Hermione inside, then he grabbed the handle of the door, but only so that he could lean his entire weight upon it to keep it closed. She pushed on the door with the flat of her hands to open it from the inside; he continued to push on it to keep it closed from his side. Next, Draco began to argue with Harry, though he kept his voice low so Hermione could not hear what he said. Harry argued back, in equally soft tones. Draco leaned so that his back was against the door, holding it closed as he hissed something else to Harry. Hermione kept pushing and pushing on the door. Then she banged on it. A few patrons inside the shop turned to watch.

The oddest thing of all happened next. Harry too began to press on the door to keep it closed on the outside, his hand on the door handle, his shoulder on the glass, helping Draco keep Hermione on the inside while they continued to bicker back and forth on the outside.

Feeling frustrated with them both, and still hungry, as well as the ever-present nausea, (What did one call morning sickness in the late afternoon?) she pulled out her wand to hex them both onto their arses. When they saw her wand waving on the other side of the glass door, both men moved promptly away from their side of the door, holding up their hands in apparent defeat.

Hermione stepped outside and said, "What in the blazes was that about!"

"I'm as shocked as you are, Granger," Malfoy said. "Potter is such a rude bugger, but then again, he always was." He added, "And I must say, I'm slightly shocked at you as well, for did you mean to end your sentence with a preposition? I was merely asking because you usually have better grammatical skills than that."

That was when it happened. Hermione Granger threw up right on the sidewalk by both men's feet. Harry's hand went to her back, patting it lightly. "Are you okay, sweetie?" Harry asked.

Draco held back one side of her hair, smiled, (smarmily, she was sure), and while laughing said, "Goodness, Granger, I thought you were joking about being queasy. I guess I should have known you weren't, because you normally aren't green. I'm used to seeing you red-faced with anger, but not green. Perhaps your greenness has something to do with your poor grammar."

After the men asked if she was okay, she waved away their hands and their concern, and when she was finished, she couldn't contain her anger.

She stood up calmly, and then lunged for Draco Malfoy.

She couldn't help it anymore than she could help vomiting on the sidewalk. She dropped her wand on the pavement right next to the mess by their feet, and in good old-fashion Muggle style, she lunged for Draco Malfoy. Since he was so much taller than she was, she had to jump up to get him, but jump she did. She jumped and placed her hands around his neck. He made a sort of gurgling noise of protest and placed his hands on her arms, while Harry held her waist, pulling her away, only half-heartedly.

Draco managed to scream, "Get her off me, Potter!"

"Is that correct grammar?" Hermione seethed, her arms tightening still.

"Potter," Draco squeaked out, "she's going to kill me."

"Fine!" Harry returned. He forcibly removed Hermione from Draco, and lifted her so that she was pressed against the storefront. There was a crowd of people around them by this time, which Harry dispersed by telling them they would be arrested if they didn't leave.

Draco smoothed down his shirt and hair and said, "I don't believe I want you to work for me now, you deranged, binge drinker! That's probably why you threw up!"

"I DON'T DRINK!" she shouted.

"Then explain your terrible use of the English Language a moment ago, and explain that!" He pointed to the vomit on the sidewalk, then took his wand and removed it quickly, after which he bent down and picked up hers, handing it to her carefully.

Taking her wand from him, she knew that she couldn't explain anything to anyone. She couldn't tell Draco why she was sick. She couldn't tell him why his usual teasing left her feeling battered and worn out (ending in a preposition be damned). Moreover, she had no clue why she was acting the way she was. The only thing she DID know was that she felt as if she might cry.

Thus, without malice or scorn this time, she repeated the same sentiment as before, "I don't drink."

He knew she didn't. He merely wanted to take her mind off the piece of parchment with his friend's name. He didn't think she would turn violent, however. He could tell she was close to tears, and for that reason, he felt close to feeling remorse. "Why did you just attack me?" he asked rationally.

She made her own strangled noise, low, loud, and long, and then turned to Harry and begged, "If you let me kill him, I'll be your best friend for life. I promise I'll do it without muss or mess. I don't even think he's attractive any longer." She laughed.

"You're my best friend for life anyway, and when did you think he was attractive? Merlin help us all, you might have to kill me now, after telling me that," Harry admitted with a laugh of his own. He moved slightly to block Draco from Hermione's view and asked, "Hermione, forget about killing Malfoy for a moment, and especially forget about thinking he's attractive. I have to ask you something. Why did you need me to find that person earlier?"

Draco rushed up to them and said, "POTTER! I swear on your life, you had better not say a word to her! I already told you why, right before she attacked me!"

"What's going on here?" Hermione emphasized to Harry, without answering Harry's question. Harry sighed and leaned his head on Hermione's shoulder.

"Hermione, please, just tell me," Harry pleaded.

"POTTER!" Malfoy warned again. "I'll let her strangle you, and see how you like it, if you don't leave well enough alone!"

Harry whipped around toward Draco, his wand out so quickly that neither Hermione nor Draco had seen him pull it from his holster. "You, shut up and go inside the store and leave Hermione and me alone right this instant, or the only person who'll be strangled is you, by me!" Hermione made a face at Draco, as if to say, 'so there' but Harry faced her just as fast and said, "And you, start talking, now."

Hermione waited until Draco was far, far away (well, inside the store, on the other side of the large, plate glass window, staring out at them, but unable to hear a single thing they said) and then she admitted, "I needed you to find him for me because I'm six weeks pregnant with his baby, and he doesn't know."

Harry felt all the air rush out of him. He thought he might truly pass out, or vomit himself, so he braced his hands against her shoulders and asked her to repeat what she had just said. Draco watched from the other side of the glass, curious. What was she telling him? What was her reasoning for wanting to find his friend after all this time? As far as Draco knew, they had only gone out that one time, and although his friend admitted to Draco that he thought he was in love with Hermione, she must not have had any real feelings toward him return, because she had not tried to contact him until now, apparently.

Draco tried to read her lips, but he couldn't make out a single word, not that it mattered. He was certain Potter wouldn't tell her that his friend was dead. Draco wanted to be the one to tell her what happened to his best friend, but only when the time was right.

Potter started to talk to her. He shook his head 'no' a few times, and then he hugged her tightly, kissed the top of her head, and ended their conversation by framing her face in his hands and kissing her forehead, right before he walked away.

Draco wished he could kiss her forehead. Draco moved along the inside of the store, toward the door, as Hermione moved along the outside, toward the same door.

He opened it gingerly, letting her inside, and asked, "Where did Potter go?"

"He said he had to go. He wished me good luck with my new job, and he told me to try very hard not to kill you. Then he told me to be sure to tell you that I was…well, something about me," she said, looking down at the floor. Draco took her wrist and pulled her into the store.

"Then what happened? What was on that little piece of paper?" He tried to act nonchalant, but even for a master manipulator and liar such as him it was difficult.

"You mean the one that you stole from me and stuffed in your coat pocket and is still there?" she asked with feigned indifference.

"Yeah, that would be the one," he said with a half smile.

"Just the name of someone I wanted him to find for me, but it's not a big deal. He told me he couldn't find him, anyway." She shrugged. "May I have the piece of parchment back, please?" Reaching her hand toward his, she turned her palm upwards and waited.

She also looked incredibly sad. Draco felt responsible for her sadness. He couldn't believe Scarboy lied for him, but then he realized that Potter didn't lie for him, he did it for Granger. She had that weird affect on people. She made saints like Potter become sinners, and sinners like him become, well, not saints per se, but saint like.

He reached in his pocket, placed the piece of parchment on her palm, and then closed her hand around the paper, enveloping her hand inside his. Then he did something so foolish, he later wondered why she didn't hex him for doing it. He brought their clasped hands up to his mouth, turned her hand to face his lips, and kissed the backs of her fingers lightly before letting go of her hand.

She stared at her hand, seemingly as shocked as he was.

"Do you still feel like a spot of dinner?" he asked, hopeful.

She shook her head no. "I want to go home," she sighed wearily. "When does my new job start?"

"Tomorrow," he just decided. "I'll pick you up tomorrow at noon." Then taking a page out of Potter's playbook, he wrapped her in his arms. She sagged against him. He looked down at her lovely face and kissed her forehead. Goodness, but it felt right. It was a daunting thought. He originally wanted Hermione to teach the children because he wanted to watch over her to fulfill the wishes of his dying friend, but suddenly his plans were changing. He wanted her for completely different reasons now.

Hermione thought it was odd, yet endearing, that Draco Malfoy was embracing her, when only a short while ago she tried to strangle him. It was true that she couldn't really have done it (her hands couldn't fit around his neck – oh, and she was no murderess) but still, it was nice that he had forgiven her. The hug went on longer than was necessary, because Hermione's head was now resting on his chest, her hands tugging on each side of his jacket.

Softly, he whispered, "Shall I see you home?"

Pushing away from him, she took the piece of parchment that was now balled up in her right hand, placed it in the left breast pocket of his jacket, patted it twice, and with all the defeat she felt hanging by a tenuous string evident in her voice, she answered him. "No. I have to learn to manage, don't I?"

With that said, she turned around and Draco watched her walk away, and he mumbled aloud, but to himself, "You don't have to manage on your own Granger. I'm going to take care of you, and not because someone asked me to, but because I want to." Then he laughed and said, "I just ended my sentence with a bloody preposition. She's rubbing off on me."

Then he took the parchment from his pocket, smoothed it out, and read in Hermione's own neat script the information that he already knew would be upon it:  


* * *

  
**C. Warrington  
Born 1977  
Slyterthin 1988 – 1996  
Chaser- Quidditch Team  
Inquisitorial Squad  
**

* * *

  
Balling it back in his fist after he read it, he said, "Besides, Charles wasn't good enough for you anyway." He tossed it on the ground, with the rest of the litter and forgotten pieces of rubbish and debris.

* * *

Chapter End Notes:

__

_- So our first question for this chapter is: Who is C. Warrington? Well, he's whoever I want him to be. A very minor character, only mentioned in the Goblet of Fire and Order of the Phoenix, and never even given a first name, only an initial, so I gave him a first name. (Dean Thomas really did say that he was so large that he looked like a sloth, although I rather think of him as a handsome sloth, and he really did check out 'Quidditch Through the Ages' before Harry could do it.) _

_- Second question: What might Draco have told Harry for him to lie to Hermione? _

_- Third: Does anyone suspect that Draco knows about the baby?_


	6. Chapter 6

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 6 – Getting to Know You, Getting to Know all about You**

Charles Warrington was a Slytherin two years older than Hermione, and two years beyond her in school. He was always a tall boy, with thick black hair, black eyes, and dark completion. He was the Slytherin Quidditch team chaser, and when Umbridge had her little 'Inquisitorial Squad', he was one of the first to join, along with Draco Malfoy.

An only child, he often felt isolated and lonely – two things he had in common with Draco Malfoy. Though he was almost three years older than Draco was, they became friends, at first because of their shared backgrounds: Slytherins, purebloods, fathers who were Death Eaters. Later, they stayed friends because Charles felt protective toward the younger boy and Draco felt he owed the older boy.

He was also quick to join the Death Eaters when Voldemort returned. Like Draco, it was because his father was in the thick of things, but in the end, he ended up helping the light side, and was more of a hindrance to his own side, therefore, because of his age at the end of the war (just shy of twenty-one) and his willingness to name names, he served only nine months in a low security detention facility.

After serving his sentence, he changed his name and went to a Muggle University, where he studied law, where afterwards he entered the prosecutor's office and made something of himself. Though often thought of as a disgrace to his pureblood family, to the Muggle community he became well known as a defender against the worst sort of criminals. He lived on the fringe of the magical world, only associating with a few wizards every now and again. One of his few magical friends was Oliver Woods.

And one night, at an engagement party for Oliver Wood and his Muggle-born fiancée, Hermione Granger, newly single, saw him across a crowded room and something extraordinary happened to her. It was as if the proverbial thunderbolt fell from the sky, hit her square in the chest, and a current of electricity fired directly between her and him. She stared unswervingly into his liquid, black eyes and he stared into hers, and 'magic' happened before they both looked away.

After which, she leaned toward Harry and asked, "Do you know who that good looking, dark haired chap is?"

Harry looked up from his drink, looked around the room, and said, "Help a bloke out, Hermione. I can't distinguish one good looking chap from another."

She nudged her chin in the air, pointed it toward the man in which she referred, and said, "Over in the corner, talking to Marcus Flint."

Harry sort of moaned and said, "Yes, I know him. Don't you remember him from school?"

She shook her head no.

"He was in seventh year with the twins, when we were in fifth. He was in Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad. He caught us breaking into her office that time."

Hermione continued to look confused, so Harry turned her around to face him, his hands on her shoulders. "Dean Thomas once said he looked like a sloth, remember?"

Again, there was another no from her, then she turned back to face the handsome man in question.

Harry looked exasperated, turned her back to face _him_, and continued. "The only time I really wanted to check a book out of the library, 'Quidditch through the Ages', I couldn't, because he had just checked it out before me! You must remember that, because you made fun of me and told me that there were better books for me to check out!"

Hermione looked over her shoulder at the handsome man, then back to Harry. "No, I still don't recall him."

"Geesh, Granger," Draco Malfoy said from behind her, having overheard the conversation. She turned toward his voice. "He's Charles Warrington the Third. I would think you would know him! Though he's a pureblood, he lives as if he's practically a Muggle, and you were born practically a Muggle. He works for the Muggle prosecutor's office in London, and he even lives in Muggle London. He's a big old git, as far as I'm concerned." Draco made a sort of 'tsking' sound and walked away.

Hermione stuck her tongue out at Draco's retreating form, which made Harry laugh, and she remarked, "He looks different than I recall."

"I can't account for that, but Malfoy's right, he's a git, as far as I remember. And he was a Death Eater on top of it, just like his dear old dad, and just like Malfoy, so stay away from him." With that sage piece of advice behind him, Harry walked away.

Never one to be deterred or swayed by other's opinions, Hermione questioned a few others about him that evening. She found out from Oliver that they played Quidditch together every fourth weekend, and that he loved to cook Italian food.

She found out from Padma Patil that he worked as a prosecutor in Muggle London, and that he did so to redeem himself for his past sins as a young Death Eater, although he was up for a job as a solicitor in the Magical Law office of the Ministry of Magic.

From George Weasley she found out that Charles always laughed at dirty jokes.

From Neville she found out that he wasn't married or in a relationship with any known witch (or wizard!) and that he apparently lived alone in Muggle London, in a modest flat.

From Parvati Patil, she found out that he was extremely tall, handsome, and had a nice body, although those were all things she could see for herself.

At the end of the evening, as Hermione was telling Oliver and his future wife goodbye, she felt someone reach out and tug at the sleeve of her coat just as she stepped over the threshold, out onto the porch.

It was he: Charles Warrington, in the flesh. Tall, dark, and devilishly handsome.

He smiled at Hermione and said, "I hear you've been asking about me tonight."

"Perhaps I have," she answered without coyness.

"May I ask why," he quizzed with one eyebrow in the air.

"The truth is, I didn't remember you from school, and I was curious about you," she admitted.

He placed his hands over his heart, cocked his head to the side, and with a look of actual pain on his face, he said, "Oh, the pain, the pain. I remember you, Hermione Granger, yet you don't remember me? How shall I live with the pain?"

Hermione smiled and said, "Somehow I think you'll recover."

"I doubt that," he joked. "You know, I was curious about you as well, although at least I remember you."

"What is there to be curious about if you remember me?" she pondered.

Instead of answering, he brushed his hand down her face, leaned closer, and kissed her cheek softly. The thunderbolt from earlier was now an entire electrical storm, wreaking havoc inside her abdomen. She didn't even know this man, yet he just kissed her cheek, and instead of giving him the dressing down that she should give him, she wanted to offer him the other cheek!

He flashed a set of white teeth before announcing, "On that note, I think I shall take my leave. I doubt my fragile ego can take much more your abuse, and I know my raging libido can't take much more of your closeness." He lifted his hand and waved goodbye, leaving her feeling flustered and confused.

Over the next few weeks, she saw him again, in ordinary enough places, and at first, she thought the meetings were coincidences, but later she assumed they were not.

For later, she understood that he liked her as much as she liked him. At one such future meeting, in the lobby of the Ministry, where she was waiting for Harry, she asked him if he was going to Oliver's wedding. He said yes. She asked him how he was getting there, since it was at a Muggle resort. He said he didn't know, because he didn't drive. At the time, she thought that was odd, since he lived in Muggle London, although she knew that just because he lived in Muggle London didn't mean he necessary drove. Many Muggles lived in Muggle London and didn't drive a car. She boldly told him she was driving, and then, with her Gryffindor courage at the forefront, said, "You could ride along with me, if you'd like."

He smiled and said, "Why don't we make it a date. I think a wedding would be a splendid first date, don't you? Unless, of course, you don't want to date me, but who wouldn't want to date me?" He smiled again, an almost wicked smile, and she smiled back and answered, "Who indeed."

And that was that. They drove to the resort together. It was a three-hour drive, and it was the best three hours Hermione had experienced in a long time. They talked about everything and anything! There wasn't one single awkward second between them. After checking into their separate rooms, they went for a walk in the woods around the old resort, and he held her hand and she felt such a glow of excitement being close to the man.

That evening, at the wedding, they sat side by side on the pew, their shoulders touching, their thighs touching, and once again, he reached for her hand, and Hermione got a glimpse of her future, and she felt certain that it was with Charles.

During the reception, they laughed, danced, and had the best night of their lives. He walked her to her room shortly after midnight. They shared their first kiss at her door. After their kiss, he started to walk toward his room, but she asked him if he wanted to spend the night. In her heart, she knew it was the right thing to do, even if it was out of character, and something she had never done before, it was right.

They made love three times that night. Right before dawn, before she fell asleep, they made plans to spend the entire next day at the resort. They were going to sleep in, have lunch, then go for a hike before watching an old comedy movie on the telly in her room, and then have dinner in the restaurant there before driving back. Pleased and contented for the first time in a long time, Hermione fell asleep in his arms.

When she woke up around noon, he was gone. There was no note from him, nothing. At first, she wasn't concerned. She thought that perhaps he had gone to his room to shower and change, so she showered and changed in her room. She waited another hour after her shower for him to return. When he didn't return, she checked his room, using her wand to gain entrance, and it was empty – as empty as her heart.

She decided to stay at the resort the remainder of the day, just as THEY had planned, but she had food alone in her room. Then she watched a sad movie on the telly, and at six, she checked out of her room, drove the three hours back to London, and once she was alone at her house, she cried for another three hours, wondering what she had done wrong.

Today, sitting alone in her house, she removed Harry's battered copy of 'Quidditch through the Ages' and scooted it under her bed. She didn't need another reminder of what might have been. The baby growing in her stomach was enough of a reminder.

True, she could have tried to contact Charles after the wedding, but her pride wouldn't allow it, and the only reason she asked Harry to find him for her was that she thought he had a right to know she was pregnant, but now she wasn't so sure he had any rights at all. All his rights went out the window the moment he left her all alone without a goodbye. In the words of Harry and Draco, he was a git.

She finished packing her trunk and waited impatiently for noon to arrive.


	7. Chapter 7

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 7 – The Long and Winding Road, Leads to Scotland Apparently  
**  
Glancing out the car window as the scenery rushed past her, Hermione placed her forehead on the cool glass and for several brief seconds she closed her eyes. Without looking toward the driver of the car (Draco) she asked, "Why are we driving again?"

"Because the children are too young to Apparate," he answered reasonably.

She lifted her head from its place on the window and swerved her neck around to look at the children as they sat in the backseat. Marie had earplugs in her ears, listening to music, and she was reading a book as well. In many ways, she reminded Hermione of herself at that age. Jeff was playing with a handheld video game.

Placing her right hand on Draco's shoulder to catch his attention, she asked, "Why couldn't we take a portkey?"

"The children have never taken one before, and I didn't think they would like it, and besides, it's hard to arrange those type of things on such a short notice," he replied.

"Short notice?" she observed.

Draco was afraid she would notice that he said 'short notice'. He offered, "Well, we are leaving two weeks earlier than I had first anticipated."

"Why?"

"Goodness, Granger, but having you in the car is akin to having another child. Why can't we take a portkey? When will we get there?" he mocked. "At least Marie and Jeff are riding quietly and not asking a million questions!" Draco huffed in reply.

Hermione folded her arms in front of her and returned, "Well, excuse me, but when I agreed to tutor the children and live with them, I thought we were going to your house in Muggle London, remember? After we left the city, I asked you at that time how long before we got there, and you didn't answer my questions then, either." She turned slightly in the front seat, offering her back toward him, and started to watch the scenery again.

She was nauseated once more, and the car ride was aggravating her sick stomach tenfold. Likewise, they had already been in the car for two hours, and Draco had been evasive from the start. She asked in the beginning where they were going, again after a half an hour, again at the hour mark, and then every fifteen minutes after that. Each time, he wouldn't answer.

"Are you afraid I'm kidnapping you, too?" he joked. He peeked over at her quickly. He couldn't see her face, just a sliver of her profile. She seemed disinclined to talk suddenly, so he reached over and flipped her shoulder with his middle finger.

"OUCH!" she barked, turning toward him, before she slapped him hard on the back of the head with her open hand. The car swerved slightly as he was distracted by the blow, and by the pain. Both children stopped what they were doing in the backseat and laughed.

Draco pulled off the motorway at the next exit and pulled into a petrol station. Unlocking his seatbelt, he reached in his pocket, pulled out Muggle money and handed it to Marie. "Go to the toilet, you two, if you must, and then get some fizzy drinks and sweets, or the likes, but leave me and Miss Granger alone for a moment."

Marie ducked out of the car quickly. Jeff stayed in his seat. Draco turned toward the silent young boy, as did Hermione. "Yes, Jeff, was there something you needed?"

Jeff shook his head no.

"Then please go with your sister," Draco requested.

Jeff looked right at Hermione. Hermione thought the young boy looked incredibly sad. His eyes were empty, hauntingly so. He reminded her of someone. At first, she thought he reminded her of Harry, but that was probably because he was orphaned, and he had dark, unruly hair. However, when she looked at his eyes, she thought for one instant that they reminded her of someone else. She just couldn't think whom.

Jeff pointed toward Hermione and then inclined his head toward the station, as if he was asking her if she wanted anything. She smiled and fished in her purse for some money. She handed him a few pounds and then said, "Please get me some water and some mints if they have them, Jeff. Thank you." The young man nodded and opened his car door and left.

Draco raised an eyebrow and turned toward Hermione. "Seems young Jeff is smitten with you or something."

"Seems young Jeff probably thinks of me as a mother figure or something," Hermione rebutted. "Now, Draco Malfoy, we are all alone. Tell me, please, where are we going?"

"To Scotland," he answered quickly. He stared at her with a smile.

She stared at him with no expression, then she started to smile, then she started to laugh. "Oh, but that's a good one." She laughed harder. "Now, where are we really going?"

"To Scotland," he repeated. "The children's father had a house in Scotland, and he used to take them there every summer. I'm taking them there for two reasons, no, make that three."

Hermione placed her hands to her face and mumbled something. Draco pulled her right hand down and said, "Pardon, I can't hear you when you're mumbling what I'm sure are death threats into the palms of your hands." He kept one of her hands in his and held it loosely.

"I was actually praying for a higher power to give me strength not to kill you," she clarified. "Why didn't you tell me we were going to Scotland?"

"You didn't ask outright, If you had asked, I would have told you," he replied. He tightened his grip on her hand, mostly so she couldn't hit him again.

"MALFOY!" She really didn't know what else to say, because he really did have a point, the wanker. She got into his car, rather blindly, and she really didn't ask him WHERE they were going. She saw that he shrank all her luggage and trunks. She saw that the children were with them. She could have asked him before they left _where_ they were heading, but she didn't. She could have Disapparated away at anytime, but she didn't. She leaned her head back on the headrest and asked, "What are the three reasons we're going to Scotland?"

"One, because I wanted the children to have a bit of normality, a piece of their father, perhaps their last piece before their world changed permanently. Two, because the house is very close to Hogsmeade, which if you recall, is close to Hogwarts, and I've arranged for them to have a tour so they can get acquainted with the school before they go there."

"And the third reason?"

"Is a secret," he said. The third reason was because he wanted to get them far, far away from London. Not just the children, but her, too. Draco turned her hand around so that her palm was facing upwards and he studied it. He asked, "Did you know I was a novice palm reader?"

All she knew was that the feel of her hand in his felt heavenly. She closed her eyes again, kept her head against the headrest, and asked, "You practice the pseudoscience of chiromancy?"

"What?" he asked. "Did you just ask me something in English, or were you speaking Goblin?"

She peeked at him with one eye, turning her head toward him. He was smiling. She smiled back. Closing her eyes again, she said, "Well, go on, you fortune teller you, read my palm, tell me what it says."

He traced a long line on her hand and said, "This is your heart line, or rather, your love line."

She fought for composure. "Really? I thought that line was long since used up on me," she quipped. "What does my love line reveal?"

Placing her hand gently in the cradle of his left hand, he used the index finger of his right to brush lightly over the skin of the longest line that branched across her hand and said, "It says that you've loved, and lost, but that you will love again, and soon."

She closed her hand into a fist and started to remove it from his, just as she sat up in the seat, opening her eyes. He was quicker. He kept her hand in his, even as she fought to free it. He opened the hand back up and moved his index finger along the other long line and said, "And this is your life line."

"Give me my hand," she seethed quietly.

"No," he replied. "It says you'll have a long, healthy and prosperous life," he continued, ignoring her request and her gently pulling. He kept her hand open with soft pressure of his own hand. "See these branches off your life line, these mean you'll have a large family - a husband, children, and the like."

"Please, Malfoy, give me my hand," she almost sobbed.

He released her hand and looked up into her eyes, which were suddenly filled with tears. "Gee, Granger, I was just fooling around. What's wrong?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she opened the car door, swung her legs around, and went inside the petrol station.

After everyone had plenty of snacks, had visited the loo once or for Jeff, twice, and Draco had topped up the car with petrol, the Ellington children and Draco sat in the big black car waiting for Hermione to come back.

She was sitting on the boot, outside.

"Should you apologize to her?" Marie finally asked.

Draco looked in the rearview mirror at the girl and barked, "I didn't do anything to her! Why should I apologize? I feel like I've spent my whole life apologizing to that woman out there and I shalln't do it when I've done nothing wrong!"

"You had to have done something," Marie reasoned. "Why didn't you tell her we were going to Scotland? Were you afraid she wouldn't come?"

"Who are you now, my mother?" Draco hissed to the young girl. "I don't have to answer to you." He bit his thumbnail and turned around to look out the back window. There she was, just sitting there.

"If we don't get there by nightfall, won't Mrs. Jenkins worry? You had her go ahead of us to get the house ready, remember?" Marie asked.

"Mrs. Jenkins can go to hell and back for all I care," Draco retorted.

"That's not nice," Marie scolded. "Perhaps that's your problem, Draco. If you were nicer, perhaps Hermione would like you."

Draco stared right at the young girl and said, "My stars, Marie, you sound almost just like Hermione at that age! One would think you were channeling her! You sound just as sanctimonious and self-righteous as she always sounded!" Opening his car door, he got out quickly, only to poke his head back in to say, "Put your seatbelts on, and don't get crumbs on my new car's upholstery!"

He slammed the car door, hard, and walked back to the boot, where he sat down next to Hermione.

He looked at his watch and said, "We should be on our way. We still have another three to four hours to drive."

"You should have told me," she said sullenly.

He felt a sudden sting…damn, there were so many things that could apply to that statement. "Told you what?" he asked carefully.

"That we were going to Scotland," she qualified.

He actually sighed a sigh of relief. He really thought she might have figured a few other things out by now. "Are you still going on and on about that?"

She looked down at her hand and said, "I'm never going to get married, by the way."

"Are we jumping from one subject to another?" He slid from the back of the car and then pulled her from it by her legs, until her feet were on the ground. His hands remained on the car by her hips, so he was terribly close. "That's not why I'm whisking you off to Scotland, Granger, to marry you. Goodness, isn't that only in those Muggle historical romances? Why do you say you aren't getting married?"

"I'm just letting you know that your palmistry is lacking, that's all," she warned. Hermione placed a hand on each shoulder of the man before her and stood her full height, which made her stand almost to the top of his chin. She had to look up at him to look him in the eyes. "And also, I know I'm acting strange," she began.

"Not much stranger than usual," he argued. She was dead quiet for a moment, so was he, then he smiled and said, "Go on, I won't interrupt again, I promise." Placing his hands around her waist, because after all, she had hers on his shoulders, so why not, he said, "You were saying something about your being strange."

"I said I know I'm acting strange, and there's a reason, and I want to tell you that reason, and I will soon, just not yet, okay?" She pushed him away, harder than she had to, because he stumbled slightly, and she started toward her car door.

"That's it?" he asked. "That all the explanation I get to your little outburst about me not telling you about Scotland, and your getting upset about my reading your palm?"

She seemed to think about it and then nodded. "Yes, that's it." She almost reached her door, when he reached it first. He grabbed the handle and started to open it, when she closed it gently with her hip and looked up at him. "Wait, that's not it. I have a question, an important one that I keep meaning to ask, but which keeps going out of my head."

"I can't imagine anything going out of that thing," he laughed, knocking on the top of her head with his fist. "What is it?"

"What's the name of the children's father? I need to know, because I might know him, and if they ask me anything about him, I need to know how to respond," she leveled.

Draco stared at her, opened mouth, and then he frowned. "His name was Charlie Ellington." That wasn't a lie. He had changed his last name for his Muggle life, to Ellington from Warrington, although he had never once in his life gone by the nickname 'Charlie'. He stared deeply into her eyes, waiting for a response of some type.

She looked a bit confused. He could tell she was racking that massive brain of hers for a wizard by that name. "Did he go to school with us?" she asked, reopening her car door.

"Gads, no," Draco lied. "Tons older than us," slight lie, "and the thing is, Granger," here was a bit of a truth, "he was Death Eater."

Hermione gasped. She closed her door gently, and pulled him away from the car so the children wouldn't hear. "A Death Eater?"

Draco nodded and said, "Yes, so you see, I don't want the kiddies to know the bad things about him, 'right, because they don't even know about Death Eaters and the like, so if they ask questions about him, let me tell them whatever they want to know."

"But you said he was one of your best friends," she reminded him. Pacing around the outside of the car, she repeated, "A Death Eater? Did he go to Azkaban?"

Draco knew he had to be cryptic with his answer, so he said, "He served his time, and then he fell in love with a Muggle woman. It happens all the time. You know, classic story of Death Eater falls in love with Muggle woman.""

Hermione opened her mouth to protest that stupid statement, but before she could, Draco laughed at the absurdity of it, so she laughed, too. "Yes, Death Eaters go to jail for killing Muggles and Muggle-borns," she began, "and then are rehabilitated by those lovely guards called Dementors, have a change of heart, and once they're released, fall in love with the first Muggle women they meet."

Draco shrugged his shoulders and said, "It could happen."

"Not bloody likely," Hermione responded. Hermione pulled him further from the car, his shirtsleeve grasped in her fist, and said, "I think we should tell them a cursory story about our world, perhaps to pass away the time on our way to Scotland. Tell them a bit about Voldemort, and Harry, and Death Eaters. Nothing graphic, and no naming of names, but just the basics to get them started. Agreed?"

At that point, he would agree to anything she wanted. If she wanted the moon and the stars, he would find a way to capture them for her. Her eyes were bright once again, her sadness gone, abated. One could almost see the thoughts and plans spinning around her head. Furthermore, one would have to be immune to beautiful smiles and visceral pulls of attraction if one did not give her anything and everything in which she only had to ask.

Before he could agree, Marie buzzed down her window and asked, "Are we going to get started soon?"

"Ask Miss Granger," Draco asserted.

Jeff leaned across his sister's lap and looked out the window as well. Hermione told the children, "Roll up the window and put on your safety belts. We're going to Scotland, I guess. For two glorious months, heaven help me." She walked toward the car, Draco falling into step beside her, and for no apparent reason other than the fact that she wanted to, she pushed him hard, with her hand on his shoulder, and he stumbled a bit.

She smiled and held back a laugh. He opened her car door and as she started to get in he whispered, "Good thing I don't hit girls, Granger, because you've been quite brutal, you have."

She bit back another laugh and watched as he strolled quickly around the front of the car to get in the driver's seat. Once there, he started the car and pulled back out onto the road, and then back out onto the motorway.

Draco's left hand rested lightly on the gear lever between Hermione's and his seat. As they drove again, quietly, the kids eating and returning to their activities in the backseat, Hermione drinking her water and looking at the scenery again in the front, he moved the hand that was on the gears slightly so that it brushed against her skirt, and then rested it on her leg.

She brushed if off as if it were a gnat. Placing her water in the console, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Daring another glance her way, he reached up to placed his hand on the back of the seat this time, his hand on her headrest, moving a bit every so often so that eventually his hand was resting under her long hair, against her neck.

Her eyes fluttered open at the first feel of his hand on her neck. Turning her head quickly toward him, he continued to look at the roadway in front of him. He started an innocuous conversation with Marie about stars and constellations and about the meaning of his name, and the like.

Without realizing, as he was speaking to the young girl he had begun to massage Hermione's neck. It felt heavenly to him, so he could only wonder what it felt like to her. He began to wonder what she looked like naked, what she tasted like, what she looked like when she first woke up. Did she have any moles near her bum? Did her breath stink in the morning? Was she a passionate lover? Would she be a good mother?

Everything about this felt wonderful. It felt, right. It felt like: The Future.

Hermione blocked out everything but the feel of his hand on her neck and the sound of her own breath. She couldn't hear them talking – she couldn't hear the outside noises of the car – she couldn't hear the motor hum – all she could hear was herself breathing, at first more rapidly, and then slow and steady, as his thumb moved in little circles near her pulse point, and his index finger and middle finger rubbed near the base of her skull, and his fourth finger and his wicked, wicked little finger rubbed sensual circles near the tiny hairs on her neck.

This time, instead of glancing out the window, she glanced over at Draco Malfoy. She stared at him. His silver grey eyes and the little laugh lines beside them. The way his mouth was quick to form a smile as he laughed and joked with Marie. His bright, white smile, and his perfectly straight, Roman nose.

Why did she feel so happy and secure suddenly, right here, in the car? Why did she feel as if THIS was her future? Bringing her hand up to her face, Hermione glanced at it, touched her finger to the long line, which represented the love line, and then the second one that represented the lifeline.

Draco stopped massaging her neck and reached over to grab her hand in his. He brought it to rest on top of her thigh, tightly in his grip, and then he said, "I think I'll tell you the story of Hermione's wretched best friend now. Jeff, put your game away. I'm going to tell a little story to pass away the hours. It's about a poor little boy who lived in a closet. Hell, I think he's still in the closet. He had a terrible facial deformity that scared away the masses, and he had no friends besides Granger and an ugly pet weasel, because he was so hideous and unlovable. What am I forgetting, Hermione?"

She laughed, pulled her hand from his, turned slightly in her seat and rebuked, "If this story is going to be told, let me tell it, and I'll tell it right. First, to tell it correctly, we must start at the beginning. There once was a boy named Tom Riddle."

Hermione began her story. Draco reached back over and held her hand. Marie placed her book on the floor, and Jeff listened in rapt and unadulterated silence.


	8. Chapter 8

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 8 – A Kiss is Just a Kiss, and Swottiness is an Adjective**

"Colloportus is the counter curse for Alohomora," said Maria, as she wound a long strand of her brown hair around a finger, almost absentmindedly.

"Yes, very good," Hermione praised from her place at the front of their makeshift classroom.

The young woman looked up and asked, "Does every spell have a counter curse?"

"No," Hermione answered, her eyes wandering over to Jeff. He was sitting by the large set of windows, looking outside. Watching. Waiting. Hermione was certain she knew for whom.

"Jeff?" she called. He turned to face her. "Did you want to join us?"

The boy nodded and started to turn from the window when suddenly he turned back. A look of excitement came over his silent features. He banged on the glass with the flat of his hands, turned toward his sister, pointed down below, and suddenly whizzed from the room like a whirlwind.

Hermione and Marie rushed to the window. Marie said, "He's back!" and then she too rushed from the room.

Hermione murmured to herself, "And then they're gone. Just like that. Malfoy comes back and it's as if I never existed." She laughed almost ruefully to herself, placed a hand on the cool glass and watched as the children joined Draco outside, where he apparently had just Apparated. Draco ruffled Jeff's hair and patted Marie's back. Then he handed them both packages. "Presents," she added "He always brings them presents. I can't compete with presents."

Hermione walked over to her desk. As she began to straighten her papers and books, a melancholy feeling fell over her. It was the first day of August, and on the sixth of August she will have been there for two months. Her time was almost over, yet she felt it had all been a waste.

For one thing, Marie was nowhere ready to begin school with children her own age, as Malfoy had wished. Hermione was certain she could start at the beginning with the first years, and then if the Headmistress thought she should be put up with her peers later, that was up to her.

For another thing, Jeff had yet to speak a single word. Therefore, he would not be able to start Hogwarts at all. One couldn't perform even the basic feats of magic without words.

Finally, yet most importantly, she was now almost four months pregnant and she thought she was beginning to show, though she took great pains to hide her condition from everyone by wearing loose fitting clothing.

Her whole reason for coming here was to have a great epiphany, figure out what she was going to do with her life and the life of her unborn child, and go back a changed woman.

What a load of shite.

She should have known all along that nothing was going to change, except for her waistline, along with her free time.

And according to every book she had read about pregnancy so far, a few other unpleasant things.

There was one more thing, which Hermione hated to admit even to herself, but as she sat there at her desk, drawing little squiggly lines up and down a piece of paper with a Muggle pen, her mind kept going back to it. So, she just had to admit to it – there was the whole 'Malfoy' thing.

When he offered her this job she felt frantic, but somehow his presence calmed her, along with his warm eyes, charming smile, and frequent little touches. The long drive was made tolerable as well because of the same thing. He kept smiling at her, he made funny little remarks, and he went out of his way to touch her in the most erotic sort of ways. Perhaps her hormones were on overdrive, but his touches drove her almost batty with want.

Besides a single incident that happened the first night they were there, he hadn't touched her, kissed her, or made an overtly sexual overtone toward her in the least. Of course, he hadn't been there either, and that was entirely her fault.

Yes, there was that completely confusing thing that happened the first night they were there…

* * *

The large Tudor house sat on a bluff, overlooking the valley below, with woods and forest all around it, high in the Scottish highlands. It was beautiful and secluded. As soon as they arrived, the children ran inside, happy to be around something familiar. Draco walked in behind Hermione slowly, watching her as she looked around.

"This was their father's home?" she asked.

"He didn't live here all the time," he replied. "He merely had the house as a sort of investment, although he and the children came here for a few weeks every summer. That's the only time he had them – the summer and once in a while on the weekends."

Hermione walked through the arched entryway into the huge front hall and spied up the large stairwell, which went up three stories. Dark wood overpowered the entire first floor, but there were warm carpets, exquisite landscapes on the walls, and fresh flowers in vases on tables. Draco let Hermione freely wander from room to room while he remained standing in the same place. He wanted her to approve for some reason. He redecorated the house with her in mind. The house wasn't overly large; it was a home, not a Manor, but it was important to him that she liked it.

Mrs. Jenkins was in the kitchen, along with a cook and a maid. She smiled at Hermione as Hermione walked inside the room and quickly walked right back out. She looked at Draco, who hadn't moved from his spot in the entryway and said, "It's a very beautiful home."

He smiled internally because she said 'home' not house. He hardly heard her as she asked, "Where will I be staying?"

"In a gardening shed out back," Draco remarked a few seconds later.

Hermione glared at him.

"What, too grand for you?" he joked. "If the shed's too grand, there's a room over the carriage house."

She didn't say a word. She merely continued to glare at him. He laughed and walked over to her to take her hand. She liked the feel of her hand in his. He started up the dark wooden staircase with her in tow.

"I guess we can let you sleep with the rest of us," he said with fake disdain. "Just don't soil the air we breathe with your swottiness."

She pulled her hand from his. When he turned to look at her he had a smile on his face, but she was glaring at him again. He laughed outright and said, "Merlin, Granger, your glare is classic. No wonder you became a teacher. With that glare, you couldn't have become anything else." He reached down for her hand again and pulled her back up the stairs.

"If that's the case, let me inform you, in my best teacher's voice, that swottiness is not a word," she lectured.

He stopped on the staircase, turned to her in earnest, and pleaded, "I beg to differ. You've been practicing your swottiness all your life, and you are the queen of it, so I can't believe you would want to deny that it exists. That would be like denying I'm incredibly handsome and debonair."

She was glaring at him but once again, and he laughed outright and said, "Please, don't push me. I can tell you're one millisecond from causing my body harm, and we are on the stairs. I beg of you, don't leave those children orphans again." He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles softly. "Forgive me, queen of all swottiness."

She tilted her head to one side and laughed, even as she said, "If I'm the queen of the swots, you're the king of the prigs."

"At your service," he bowed.

When they reached the top floor there was a landing and a hallway that split in two, leading in opposite directions. He pointed down one way and said, "Down there are the children's rooms and the staircase that leads up stairs to the servants' rooms."

She pointed toward the stairs they had just exited and asked, "Then where do these stairs lead?"

"It's an old nursery, with a governess' room and such. I thought we could set up the classroom up there."

"Is that where my room is?" she asked.

He smiled with a half smile and said, "You think I mean for you to be a servant, like a governess or something?"

Instead of glaring at him this time, she merely stared, her mouth slightly open, watching and wondering. She wasn't sure what to think. He placed a finger under her chin and closed her mouth.

"This way, Granger," he continued. He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and led her down the other hallway. He pointed toward two rooms in the front of the house and said, "Those are guest rooms." They had just set foot down the corridor when he pointed toward a set of double doors. "That was their father's room. I would prefer if you wouldn't go in there, okay?"

Without waiting for a response, he continued pulling her down the hall until there was only two other doors. He pointed toward one on the left and one on the right. "Take your pick. The rooms are almost identical. Both have private baths and balconies."

She opened the door on the right and it was decorated with striped green wallpaper and floral drapes and bedding. She took a few steps down the hall, opened the other bedroom door and it was decorated with blue walls and a much more masculine motif.

"I'll take the one on the right," she decided, closing the door in her hand. Walking past him, she opened the other door again, walked in the average sized room, and looked around. The bathroom and closet were opposite the bed, the windows and balcony opposite the door. She sat down on the bed, and was about to take off her shoes to rest (even though Draco was still silently standing in the doorway), when the children burst into the room.

"Hermione, come see my room!" Marie shouted. "Draco had it completely redecorated! He had the whole house redecorated! I love it! Come on!" She grabbed one of Hermione's hands, while Jeff grabbed the other. Hermione looked at Draco and mouthed the word 'help' but he just laughed and pushed on her back.

Then he slipped in his bedroom, the one next to the one he had decorated especially for her, and he began to unpack his things.

After spending time with both children in their rooms, and allowing them to take her on a tour outside, it was time for dinner. Although she wanted nothing more than a nap and a bath, Mrs. Jenkins and the staff took great pains to make a welcoming feast for the children, so Hermione didn't want to protest.

She was almost as quiet as Jeff was during the meal. Draco and Marie dominated the conversation. After dinner, she slipped upstairs and finally had her bath, but she was no longer in the mood for a nap. She put on a light cotton peasant dress, a pair of flats, and a lightweight sweater, and decided to go unpack her trunks.

Unpacking her books up on the third floor, nostalgia took a hold of her heart as memories barraged her right and left. She remembered nights in the castle at Hogwarts, feeling safe though their world was anything but. She remembered feeling carefree and happy at school. She wanted Marie and Jeff to have that. She wanted her child to have that. All these books were mere tokens of a girl and a place that once was and would never be again.

Feeling overwhelmed, she left all the books in disarray on the floor and in the trunk and she walked down all three flights of stairs to the doors that led to the back garden, off the sitting room.

The garden was unfamiliar to her, but she found a gazebo at the end of a path, near a pretty little overlook. She stood at the edge to admire the scenery, though the reality of it was that even in the twilight, it was too dark, the trees too tall, too primeval, for her too see anything but darkness. It was enough that the breeze washed around her, blowing her hair from her face, bathing her skin with kisses and corporeal touches.

It was too dark to see the cove below; too dark to see that she wasn't alone.

He broke the silence. "I've been thinking," he started.

She gasped and turned with her hand over her heart. "You startled me."

"Because I've been thinking?" he mused.

"No, well, yes, I suppose that's enough to startle me too, because I'm not used to you thinking, but I thought I was alone out here," she teased with an easy smile. She exhaled a breath and asked, "What have you been thinking?"

"I've been thinking," he repeated, slowly, almost lazily, "how very beautiful you look in the soft glow of twilight."

She turned from him slightly. "That's very poetic, but not very true," she refuted in a mocking manner. She felt him standing right behind her, but she refused to turn and acknowledge how close he had become, or how much he was affecting her, or how much EVERYTHING was distressing her - the breeze to the front of her, Draco to the back.

"You're too used to me lying," he supposed, his voice like another whisper of wind on her neck, "but I'm not lying this time, Granger." He drew a hand down the middle of her back, stopping at the sway of her bottom, where it moved around to her hip. She shivered. "You're a beautiful, beguiling woman."

"Beguiling? Right..." She took a step away from him and leaned against the railing of the gazebo to stare back out in the darkness. "Malfoy, I'm here to teach the children, nothing more."

"Do you want me to go inside?" he asked, a terseness in his voice that wasn't there a flash before.

Both of her arms went around her body, as if she was either holding in her emotions or hugging herself. He couldn't tell which. He could only sense that she was fragile, and he wondered why. Hermione Granger was one of the strongest people he had ever known in his life, yet over the last few days he sensed that she was practically submerging and drowning, or hanging precariously onto a string. Whatever demons she was fighting now were stronger and bigger than she could fight alone, and while he spent his life as a solitary coward, he found that with her, he couldn't stand idly by and witness her fight them alone. He wanted to fight them with her.

Likewise, he didn't know why.

He had promised Charles that he would look after his children, keep them safe. He had promised him that he would look after Hermione and that he would never ever tell her HOW he had died, but Draco's feelings for her had nothing to do with obligations or promises made to a dying man. It was more than that. Her internal battles twisted his heart.

She had yet to answer his question. Consequently, he would answer it for her. If she didn't want him to go inside, he wouldn't. With her arms wrapped around her body, he took the steps needed to reach her, and wrapped his arms around her, too. He loved the thought of her soft female form against his body. A flowing sense of yearning passed through them. She leaned her head back on his shoulder and looked up into his eyes. He kissed her forehead, her temple, her brow, and then her cheek. He tasted a salty tear.

For some unknown reason, that alone sent a flare of craving through him. He turned her around, tilted her head up, looked at her full, red bow of a mouth, and lowered his lips to hers. She accepted the kiss without protest or complaint. Her hands, which were resting on his chest, went up to wind around his neck, her fingers in his hair. The very instant their lips touched, their breaths mingled, their souls collided, was the sweetest moment Draco Malfoy had ever experienced in his life.

It was a life spent of excess and guilt, a life of selfishness and self-centeredness. All of that gone the second his friend died and left him his children. All of that gone the second he found Hermione Granger again. All of that gone the very second his mouth found hers.

* * *

_* I wonder what else happened that first night? You'll probably find out next chapter! _


	9. Chapter 9

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 9 – A Wanton is Another Name for Hermione Granger**

Draco Malfoy was kissing Hermione Granger. He had wanted to kiss her the moment he set eyes upon her days ago, yet the reality of it struck him as odd. It was surreal only in the fact that it was better than he had ever imagined.

His hands went down to her hips and back, pressing and stroking, bring her closer to him, feeling her need, forcing her to feel his, bringing them both to a frenzy, their lips locked together in a timeless dance, until his erection stood hard against her stomach.

Throwing caution to the wind, because his senses were in a whirl, he eased one hand away from her back, slipped it under her sweater to the outside of her dress and placed it on her breast. It felt heavy and wanting. She moaned when his thumb brushed over her nipple once and then twice. His kisses moved from her mouth, down to her neck, as his palm continued to press and fondle her breast.

For Hermione, the kiss went from being a bizarre 'what?' to being a very real, 'Oh My God' with that touch. Pushing him away for a few brusque seconds, she glared at him, and he glared back. Shaking, she knew she should say something, deny her wants, cravings, and needs, but she didn't have the strength.

He waited for the onslaught, the accusations and the reprimands. When the only thing that followed were short little bursts of breaths from her wet, overripe lips, he lifted her completely from the ground and moved her to a soft bench on the other side of the gazebo.

"Let someone take care of you for a change, Granger," he hummed to her. Using his wand to extinguish all appearance of light and form, he continued to kiss her, claiming and exploring her mouth as his hands explored her body.

Her sweater found its way to the floor, along with her dress. He didn't mean for it to happen, but he wouldn't apologize, nor would he stop it if he tried. He was on his knees by the bench, palming her breasts, bending his head to take the same breast into his mouth, her head lolling back on his arm, new gasps of pleasure escaping her perfect little mouth.

She only had to tell him to stop and he would try, he really would, but the sounds coming from her mouth didn't resemble reprimands. Hands on her legs, drawing higher and higher, following a path that would have to wait for her consent, he hovered near his goal, hand on silk, mouth on skin, moving down her chest to her stomach.

She tried to move his shirt off his chest, unbuttoning it, struggling to get it off his shoulders. That was all the consent he needed. He stroked her over the silk of her knickers even as he removed his own shirt, and she went limp and drew taut, the same time as a cry of subservient zeal broke the silence of breeze in the air.

The cry of her plea touched him. He stilled his hand, moved to lay over her on the bench and lifted his head to watch her eyes. He wanted to see if he saw the anger that he knew so well from childhood or the sorrow he had come to know of late. He saw neither. Instead, he thought he saw the woman that his best friend fell in love with after only one date together.

That thought made him sad. Sad for Charles, sad for Hermione, and even sad for himself. He was sad because Charles would never know how sweet it was to make love to her, because he had only dated her once. Sad for Hermione because she was such a passionate person, but for some reason, she was so passionately sad right now, though Draco was resolved to make her happy. Sad for him, because he thought he was still a selfish person to the core, because he was undoubtedly taking advantage of her sadness, and he really didn't care.

He kicked the rest of his clothing off onto the floor, along with her last barrier, braced himself over her, and asked, "Are you sure, Granger?"

"Please, don't stop," she gasped, her hands on the back of his head.

Slow, languid strokes and caresses raised waves of desirous need between them, even as she arched under him, begging for more with simple movements of her body, feeling vulnerable and conscious of how badly she needed him.

And he felt anxious to please, craving to show her pleasure, focusing on the beauty of her face, her body, the arousing and astonishing pleasure of the primal sounds of each moan and cry that escaped her lips that passed through the darkness of the night.

"Tell me what you like. Tell me what you want," he whispered, before kissing her wildly again. She trembled at the intensity of it all. With a helpless surrender, she felt as if she died from the pleasure as her release came a moment before his. She clutched his shoulders and he dropped onto her like a leaden weight.

He turned to his side and held her tightly. She was grateful, because she was suddenly aware of what she had done and grief and guilt began to wash over her amidst the unworldly sensuality in which she floated in the aftermath of their lovemaking.

She couldn't even look at him. Her hands went to her face and she whispered, "What have I done? What in the world have I become?"

"What?" he asked, having not heard her, having not understood.

Sitting up, she reached across his chest, groping around the muddle of clothing for her dress. She asked louder, "What must you think of me? What have I become? Am I some wanton now?" In her mind, she thought, _'First I sleep with __Charles__ after only one date, and then I sleep with Malfoy after NO dates! He's my employer!'_

Finding her dress, she slipped it on quickly, even as she slithered over his body. He felt her confusion, mixed with his own. Grabbing his trousers a second before he grabbed her hand, he asked, "What's wrong?"

"You're my employer! I didn't come here for this! Is this why you asked me here?" She wrenched her hand from his arm and looked around the dark gazebo for her sweater and knickers. "I can't believe I did that!"

"Well, correct me if I'm wrong, Granger, but I didn't do it by myself," he reproached, having misheard her. He reached down for her knickers, threw them to her, then slipped his shirt on and began to button it.

She looked at him in horror, and seethed, "I know that, Malfoy! I just said that I couldn't believe I DID THAT! I can believe _you _did a thing like that! I can't believe I did that! You must think I'm terrible! I feel like some whore, some wanton woman!" She slipped her knickers on under her dress and then tried to smooth down her hair and continued, "And outside, too! Where anyone could have seen us! Damn hormones!"

"I don't know what hormones had to do with it," Draco said in disgust, picking up her sweater and holding it tightly, "but no one saw a thing! I put up a disillusionment charm. No one could have seen us! And no one thinks you're a whore, and mostly, no one uses the word wanton these days, Granger!"

She folded her arms around her and said, "Good! Now Oblivate my memory and I'll Oblivate yours and we can go back as before."

He looked at her seriously, and then couldn't help himself. He laughed. "If I Obliviate you, you'll forget all about it, and then you won't remember to Obliviate me."

"Semantics," she mumbled, waving her hand in front of his face. "We'll do it together at the count of three, agreed?" She reached for her sweater, which had her wand in the pocket.

"You're a nutter!" he accused, confused at her outraged.

She pointed her finger in his face and said, "I mean it, Malfoy. This never happened, and it won't happen again! I have enough problems right now. I don't blame you at all. I know I seduced you! That's the type of thing I do, but I can't handle this right now, so it won't happen again! Stay away from me, and I'll stay away from you."

"I hate to break this to you sweetheart, but you were hardly the seducer in this scenario. I would rather think it was mutual," he declared, even though in his mind he was certain that he was the one who took of advantage of her current fragile, emotional state. He added, "And it's been coming on since I asked you to teach the children. I felt an instance want and need for you, and I know you felt one for me as well."

She gave into another instant want and need _to push_ him, so she did! He fell backwards and landed on the bench where they had made love. "Don't call me sweetheart and don't tell me what I've felt and what I've wanted and needed! Furthermore, don't tell me I didn't seduce you! I did too seduce you! That's what I do nowadays! I tell you, Malfoy, I'm nothing but a wanton, wicked woman and if you know what's good for you, you had better stay far away from me!" She was pointing her finger at him again AND glaring at him.

He wanted to laugh and cry all at once. "Wanton, wicked woman? What the hell does that mean? And should I take that as a direct order? You're giving me that teacher look again, plus you're pointing along with the teacher glare, you wanton, wicked teacher you." He couldn't resist saying it, although the moment it spilled from his lips he knew it was the wrong thing to say.

She stomped her foot and screamed, not loudly, but it was still a scream. "FINE! Yes! Take this as a directive and stay the hell away from me!" She threw her sweater on and wrapped her arms around her waist.

"You're so confusing! You send out all these mixed messages! You act vulnerable and desirable, and then you try to push me away. By the way, how are we to stay away from each other?" he barked, standing up. "We've only just arrive here, and you're living at my house for the next two months, remember? You agreed to teach the children, for two months, in exchange for that damn money for your school, and a bargain's a bargain! You can't back out now! I won't let you!"

"Fine! Keep your money, and I'll even send someone else to teach the children," she hissed, starting to walk away.

He grabbed the tail of her sweater, pulling her back. "Stop saying 'fine!' and are you serious?"

"Deadly!" she spat.

"Fine!" he mocked her overused sentiment. He took a deep breath. He saw no other way around it. He felt totally defeated, and very bewildered by the woman in front of him. "Then I'll go. You stay and teach the children, here at this house. I'll come round only in the evenings sometimes and on weekends, to visit with them and to take them places. Mrs. Jenkins will take care of them, and you'll teach them. It's more important for them to have an education and to get them ready for Hogwarts then for me to be here."

In his mind, he added, '_And for you to not hate me.'_

Therefore, that was what he did.

He slept in the room next to Hermione's room that first night, but she didn't see him again until the next morning. He told the children his plans, and they were visibly upset, but they seemed to expect to be abandoned, which upset Hermione that she was the cause of it.

She offered to leave again right before Draco left that morning, but he wouldn't hear of it. He smiled at her before he Disapparated away, having decided to leave her the car in case she needed it.

During the next two months, she took great pains to avoid him when he came to visit the children. She would hide in her room or the classroom, take long walks in the woods, or if he took them on excursions, she remained at the house. Besides a 'hello' or a 'goodbye' from each other, it was as if they barely existed to the other.

Except she found herself thinking about him more and more, and about Charles less and less. She found herself wishing the child that was growing in her stomach were Draco's child, because although he had a terrible father growing up, after seeing him with the children she felt certain he would be a wonderful father.

Hermione felt anxious and on edge, knowing Draco was downstairs with the children. Remembering their one brief interlude, as well as all the sleepless nights that had followed during the last two months made Hermione weary. Again, it pushed her brief affair with Charles out of her brain, and all she could think about was Malfoy. She no longer cared if she ever saw Charles Warrington again. She only wanted to see Malfoy. She wanted him to come back to the house and stay. She didn't want him to go away again, not only for her sake, but also for the children.

She heard the children running up the stairs. She didn't know if that meant Malfoy had left already, or if he had joined them in the house, but she knew she needed to have a long talk with him about the children and the sooner, the better.

However, looking down at the slight bump in her stomach, she said to the baby inside it, "You must be sucking all my Gryffindor courage right out of me. I hope it's not all your little Slytherin genes," because she decided today was too soon to deal with Draco, so she placed her pen down and rested her head on the desk, settling instead to take a nap. Being pregnant had made her tire easily. Thinking of Malfoy and that first night made her tired. Thankfully, her third month was over, and her 'all day sickness' had passed. She closed her eyes, and was about to fall asleep when she heard a knocking on the doorjamb of the attic classroom.

She looked up into the still warmest pair of grey eyes she had ever seen. "Hey, Granger," he said with a small smile. "How've you been?"


	10. Chapter 10

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 10 – A Little Touch of This, A Little Touch of That, a Little Touch of a Chapter, but Don't Complain to me**

Hermione looked up into the warmest set of grey, silver eyes she'd ever seen just as Draco said with a small smile, "Hey, Granger. How've you been?"

"Good," she said, less than eloquently, feeling flushed that he was standing right in front of her, especially as she had been thinking of him, and musing over their night of lovemaking. Feeling as if she had been caught doing something that she ought not, she started to straighten already straight piles of papers on her desk.

He walked into the room and looked around. He felt nervous to be around her and he could tell that she felt anxious and tense as well. Picking up a book that was left abandoned on a table in front of her desk, he laughed and said, "Sixth Year Runes? A bit advanced for the children maybe?"

She shrugged and smiled in return. He held the book out for her, but didn't walk toward her. She stood from her desk and met him in the middle of the room as he handed it to her.

And that was how they met halfway…he held out a book for her and she collected it.

"Something about you looks different," he noted. In truth, she looked tired, but radiant all the same. Her hair was longer and she wore it as she usually did, but it seemed softer and curlier, and it hung in gentle waves on her shoulders and down her back. She seemed to have gained some weight on her small frame, and it made her seem healthier. Even the sadness that was so evident in her eyes before was now only a slight shadow, with only a small trace of it lingering there when he looked at her closely.

Shrugging again, she turned to place the book on her desk. Self-conscious of the way he was staring at her, she looked down and wondered if he could tell she was pregnant. Even at four months, she wasn't really 'showing' yet, though she knew she had gained some weight, and had a 'small bump' in her middle. With her back to him, she said, "I can't fathom why I might look different."

"Maybe the country air's been good for you," he remarked. "You were looking undernourished when you first arrived here two months ago, and now it seems you've put on weight, but in a good way." In fact, he thought she was glowing with health. She looked more beautiful than he remembered. He hoped it wasn't being away from HIM that made her seem to appear better. He repeated, "You're positively glowing."

Hermione halted with her back to him. Didn't people say THAT to pregnant women? She turned, and a blush crept up her cheeks.

He was going to tease her about the spot of crimson that formed on both cheeks, but decided it was best not to do that. Her blush was one of the things that he found so refreshing about her. Deciding to keep the conversation light, he joked, "Your prison sentence is due to be over, did you know? Two months is almost up." He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small folded piece of paper. "Here's the remainder of your cheque, for your school."

Seeing the cheque in his outstretched hand and hearing the finitely of it all in his voice was almost too much for her to bear. She wanted to shout, "NO!" to him loudly and immediately because she didn't want to leave yet! There was still so much to do! The children weren't ready. She wasn't ready. And he had just returned. And she was glowing! Nevertheless, what could she do? What could she say? She reached for the cheque with a shaky hand; only to her surprise, he placed it back in his breast pocket before she could touch it.

"You'll get it in the morning, after you give me a full report of your success," he declared with a smile, adding, "Which you'll deliver to me tonight, over dinner, just the two of us. Mrs. Jenkins' taking the kids out for dinner tonight." He added that last part on a whim. The worst she could say was no.

"Success?" she asked softly, almost to herself. Then she smiled and said, "I'm sorry, I can't do that."

He cringed and almost cursed. "Damn it, Granger, I've stayed away, just as you wished, for almost two months. I won't seduce you again, I swear. We'll keep our relationship as it was before the first night. I mean, it's just dinner, to find out about the children."

He was lying. He didn't mean a word of it, but if lying was the only way he could keep her from leaving, or keep her from pushing him away, then he would lie. He would lie, beg, borrow, or steal, but he positively WOULD NOT leave her again!

She licked her lips, turned back around and walked over to the chalkboard. Wiping it clean from today's lesson, she smiled, even as she had a most dastardly thought. She didn't want to leave, not yet. She had grown close to the children. She still had so much she wanted to teach them. In addition, she wanted to find out why Jeff stopped speaking. More than that, she wanted to be with Malfoy again. She wanted to get to know him better; she wanted his little touches, his compliments, his words of encouragement. She wanted to see why he haunted her every thought during the day and starred in her every dream at night. Goodness, she might even want to sleep with Malfoy again…if that made her a wanton, a wanton she would be, although seriously, who used words like that nowadays.

Furthermore, _he thought she was glowing_, and that was rather nice of him, wasn't it?

Turning back to him, she said, "I can't do that, because I haven't been a success. I've failed you and the children, but we still have over three weeks until the start of the first term of school. If you think you can stay here and devote yourself to helping us, perhaps we can have at least Marie ready when September first rolls around."

Draco smiled with his whole face. Hell, Granger wasn't fooling anyone, but he would let her think she was. He knew that she wanted to stay here as much as he wanted her to stay, and as much as he wanted to stay, too. He approached her slowly and said, "Sure, I can probably accommodate you. I can stay and help you, just for the children, but of course."

Draco had a feeling that Hermione Granger had ulterior motives for wanting to stay. He didn't doubt her need to succeed. He went to school with her for six years, and she always was one that needed to exceed at everything. He also didn't doubt her feelings for the children. She was a passionate, caring woman, so of course she had started to care for them.

Also, being a inquisitive person, she would want to solve the puzzle as to why Jeff couldn't (or wouldn't) speak, so he didn't doubt the validity of her statement regarding the fact that she wanted to find a cure for him, or at least the cause for his muteness.

However, she wasn't pulling ALL of the wool over his eyes. He knew she had some feelings for him. Perhaps she didn't lay awake every night thinking about him the way he did about her, and perhaps she didn't miss him the way that he missed her, but damn it all to bloody hell he didn't imagine the passion they felt when they made love. He didn't imagine the fire that existed between them every time they looked at each other, or every time they touched.

It was real, and she wanted to explore it as much as he did. Well hot damn and hallelujah.

He walked around her and asked, "Does this mean we're to be friends again?"

She swallowed hard, cleared her throat, picked up the Ancient Runes book, placed it back down, coughed, and stammered, "Well, of course. If we were friends before, then I guess we're friends again."

"Are we more than friends?" he asked lazily, one eyebrow in the air, stalking closer to his prey, almost touching her now, his shoulder touching her back as he walked around her.

She looked down at her hands as they fiddled with a Muggle pen on the desk and said, "Of course, because you're actually my employer, too," and then she tried to laugh, though it came out as a forced, nervous giggle. She could feel the brush of his breath against her hair, which meant he was dangerously close.

"Is that what we are, Granger? Employer and employee?" He turned her to face him with a gentle caress of his hand on her shoulder.

She gazed up into his face. "Friends first," she clarified, "and then employer and employee."

His fingertips moved lightly from her shoulder down her arm to the top of her hand, and then he moved his hand back to his side. "What else are we?" He dared her in his mind to say 'lovers' but he knew that she wouldn't.

"I don't know what else we are, but I know what we used to be. We used to be archenemies," she gleamed with a smile.

He had to smile in return. He reached out to touch her arm again, fleetingly, and joked, "I would rather think you were my nemesis, not my archenemy. That was Potter's purpose in my life."

One shoulder came up in a half shrug and she laughed, "Same difference. Former adversaries, if you'd rather."

"And now we're…what are we again?" He couldn't stop himself from touching her. He found that he wanted to touch her all the time, all day long, for the rest of his life. His hand went to her arm again, traveled up and then down, until he felt little pinpricks on her flesh indicating goose bumps. Leaning forward, until his mouth almost touched her hair, he asked again, "Well, I'm waiting. What would you say we are, because friends just don't describe it, and I refuse to call us employer and employee?"

"Bosom buddies?" she said sincerely, her face lifting upward toward his at the same time that his gaze sought hers.

He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Bosom buddies indeed. The depth of his feelings for her went way beyond that of friendship. Other adjectives, such as acquaintances, coworkers, mates, associates, or 'bosom buddies' were just as stupid. Speaking of bosoms…hers seemed larger. He tried not to stare, but he couldn't help it.

"Speaking of bosoms…buddies," he said aloud. "Are bosom buddies permitted to touch?"

"You've barely kept your hands to yourself," she pointed out as both of his hands were gliding up and down her arms. The moment she referred to it, he stopped and she felt an instant bereavement from the loss of his touch. She shouldn't have mentioned it.

She announced, "Yes, I suppose there are proper times and places for friends to touch, and seeing as we've come to an agreement about my staying, and an agreement about us being friends, I'd think it would be appropriate for us to shake on the matter, at the very least."

He reached out his hand. "Good. Let's shake on it, call it a verbal agreement, an addendum to our original contract."

"For the children," she agreed, and took his hand. They shook on it. After they shook on it, neither let go of the other one's hand. In fact, he pulled her closer to him and she pulled him closer to her.

Then they both smiled. It seemed they both had a bit of 'wanton' in them. Hmm.


	11. Chapter 11

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 11 – It's a Long Way to Tipperary, and a Long Way to Hermione's Heart, Too**

Draco refused to relinquish her hand. After all, for two months, all he had thought of was her – her hair, her skin, her lips, her eyes, her breasts, her taste, her smell, her smile, her legs – the list could go ad infinitum. He had only made love to her once, and once was not nearly enough. It was quick, it was outside, it was dark, and it was much too much to the point. He wanted a command performance with an encore. He would demand a command performance.

He would provide the encore.

Perhaps tonight.

And for some reason the silly woman had remarked that she thought she was a 'wanton' after they made love! Hell, he had known her for most of his life! It wasn't as if they had slept together after a first date or something, so why would she say something stupid like that? With her hand still in his, his mind flashed to Charles. The poor man DID only have one date with her, and he told Draco on his deathbed that he had fallen in love with her, and they apparently hadn't even slept together!

Then that thought made Draco wonder something else. What did _he, _Draco Malfoy, perpetual playboy and continual bachelor, feel for the woman whose hand was wrapped inside his?

For two months, he'd stayed away from her when all he wanted was to be near her. Before she arrived here, he had even decorated this house with her in mind, and that was before she had even agreed to come teach the children. Yet, for the last two months, he'd only gotten glimpses of her now and then, when he visited the children in the evenings and on weekends. Even with only brief glimpses, the fire in his belly had not extinguished for her, but had grown hotter and brighter.

Even when she made herself scarce by staying up in the classroom or hiding away in her bedroom, he knew she was nearby, and his nerve-endings felt frayed and worn 'feeling' that she was in the same house, or in the next room.

Well, no more confusion, fire in the belly, frayed nerve-endings for him! She wanted him to stay, so stay he would…for the children, for her, for him.

"Malfoy?" she said, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"Yes, sweets?" he asked.

"You still have my hand," she pointed out.

He looked at their joined hands. No longer pumping up and down, just her small hand being held by his somewhat larger one, his warm, hers slightly cold. He turned hers over and said, "I've been working on my palmistry, and I think I'm getting better at it."

She let loose a patronizing little laugh.

He contradicted her laugh with a resounding 'humph'. "I have," he countered. He pulled on her hand, so hard that she almost stumbled into his body. He placed her hand practically up to his nose and said, "Would you like me to tell you what your palm tells me right now, Granger?"

"I'm all aflutter waiting to hear the answer," she condescended.

He ignored her denigrating attitude and said, "It says, right here, that you, Granger darling, are bound to get a kiss tonight."

"I get a kiss every night," she leveled.

He frowned and tucked her hand under his arm, which naturally pulled her body almost flush against his. With one hand on her back, he brushed her hair away from her face with his other hand, ending up under her chin. With his hand gripping her chin, and her face pointed upward toward his, he asked, "Who's been kissing you every night? You're not seeing someone are you?"

"No, but I've make a point of telling the children goodnight every night, and I always give them both a kiss on the forehead or cheek and often I get one in return," she explained with a smile.

He thought that was unbearably sweet, and usually anything unbearably sweet made Draco Malfoy gag, but his gag reflex was holding steady, which was a good thing. "You're unbearably sweet," he murmured, that having been the first thing to enter his mind. The words just came out. The hand that had swept her hair back went around to rest on her shoulder, and he drew her closer as that hand went down her shoulder, her arm, to her waist, her hip, and then around to her back to join the other hand.

"Unbearably?" she grinned back.

"Well, usually anything that's sweet I think of as unbearably so, because sweet things make me sick. By the way, how's your stomach these days?" His other hand now went up into her hair and twisted around some of the long locks. They were standing chest to chest, hip to hip, thigh to thigh. He was holding her so close that he found he could actually FEEL her pulse beating – each beat went from her body straight into his. "I'm only asking because I don't wish for you to vomit on me, seeing that I'm holding you in my arms."

Her morning sickness virtually stopped at the end of her first trimester. It was odd, but it did, so for the last couple of weeks she had been feeling quite well. "I'm feeling well. As you pointed out earlier, it must be the clean Scottish air," she proposed. She reached up and brushed back his hair, just as he had done to her, and then moved her hands under his arms and around to his back. Funny, but it felt almost normal and second nature to be held by Draco Malfoy. The last time she felt this comfortable with a man was the weekend she spent with Charles.

She pushed thoughts of Charles aside and proclaimed, "Speaking of which, since we're in Scotland, I think a visit to Hogwarts is in order. I've already written to Professor McGonagall and she agrees that a visit would be wise for the children. She'd like to meet them as well, to assess their readiness for school."

He smiled, leaned his face toward hers and said, "Are you certain you aren't going to throw up on me if I hold you this close?"

"What does that have to do with taking the children to Hogwarts?" she wondered aloud, adding, "and no, I mean, yes, I'm certain," she corrected, leaning back against the circle of his arms. "Oh, by the way, I don't think we should let the children see us in a compromising situation, so perhaps you should let me go. They could come up here any second. Just because I'm staying and you're staying, doesn't mean we should start all of this anew."

"You keep trying to change the subject," he complained, holding her closer, her breasts now pressed firmly against his chest. She felt slightly alarmed. She knew she wasn't showing very much yet, but she didn't want him to be able to 'feel' anything, so she tried to push away even as he continued to hold her tightly.

"Seriously, Draco, just because I want to stay and continue to teach the children, and think you should stay here as well, because after all, it's your house, doesn't mean it's an open invitation for us to go back to the debauchery that was our last night together," she lectured. She said the words, though she didn't really mean it.

"Debauchery?" he laughed. "Are you from another century? First 'wanton' and now 'debauchery'. Is that what it was called? Gee, here I've always called it making love."

A shadow instantly fell over her face. "To make love, one must be in love," she spouted. She wiggled until she was out of his arms. He let go of her easily, but held onto one wrist. She tugged and pulled but he wouldn't let it go. "Hold onto my wrist forever if you want to, but that doesn't mean I'm going to have sex with you."

"I don't want it forever," he mocked, "and I'm not certain, but I think I need more than your wrist to have sex. What's wrong with you?"

"I don't think I have time to give you the whole list of things that's wrong with me right now," she mumbled seriously. He laughed at that and let her wrist go free. He hopped up on her desk and as she started past it he grabbed a hold of her other wrist.

"Stop for a moment, Granger." He pulled her inside the V of his legs. Swinging her arm carelessly he asked, "When do you want to go to Hogwarts?"

"This weekend?" she asked, hopefully. "I thought we could stay at an inn there, take a tour of the school and the village. It would be better for the children to tour it the first time without other students there. Oh, but I'd like someone to come see Jeff first. I know you said he's been seen by Muggle physicians and by Healers at St. Mungo's, but I have a specialist that's on staff at my school that I'd like to see him. He's a magical psychologist who helps administer magical intelligence testing for placement at my school for the gifted."

He dropped her wrist suddenly. "What good will that do?" Draco asked.

"It'll let me know for sure if his inability to speak is psychological," she stated, "or if it's something more sinister. Malfoy, I've been wondering if it might not be a curse or something."

"More sinister? A curse?" He jumped down from the desk and smiled. "Granger and her wild theories. Just because you spent all those years with Pothead and Gingerboy wrapped up in sinister dealings and chasing Dark Lords and his evil minions doesn't mean every answer has something sinister backing it."

"Says the evil minion," she cracked with a smile.

Draco was shocked she said that, but then he laughed. He poked her on the chest and protested, "I wasn't an evil minion of the Dark Lord. That was my dear old dad and my evil auntie. I wasn't ranked that high on the evilness totem pole. I was more like a wicked sycophant. There's a vast difference."

Hermione started backing away from him, ticking off on her fingers, "Yes, minion is a follower, an underling, a subordinate, a crony, a hanger-on who serves his master for NO personal gain." He walked toward her as if he were stalking her, nodding in agreement. She held up her other hand, continued walking backward, and ticked off on those fingers, "While a sycophant is a toady, a flatterer, a creepy little fawner who grovels at the feet of those they serve for their OWN personal gain."

He grabbed for her hands after she ticked off her lists and when she was done he had her pressed up to the back wall of the classroom, with each one of her hands wrapped in one of his at each side of her head, their fingers entwined against the wall. The position caused her chest to heave upwards slightly. His nose was pressed almost to hers.

"Yes, so you see, a sycophant is ever so much better than a minion," he said through clenched teeth, with a perfectly serious demeanor, his breath warm against her cheek. "I was always in it for myself, not for others."

She laughed and couldn't resist the urge to kiss the tip of his nose and said, "Yes dear."

He visibly leaned away, just a fraction, letting go of her hands, when she said, 'Yes dear'. Goodness, she was so endearing, and lovely, and fresh, and beautiful, and he usually couldn't abide any of the rubbish, yet he wanted her so much! And he was going to make her see that she wanted him, too. He was good at that type of thing…he had lots of practice getting what he wanted and making people believe in what he said, being a 'seasoned sycophant' and all. Leaning closer, elbows on the wall, hands now in her hair, he kissed her lips briefly, just moving them back and forth across hers.

After which her eyes widened and he said, "I don't think I can agree to your terms of not letting the kiddies see how much I want you, Granger, but I can agree to your jaunt to Hogwarts, especially the part where we stay at the Inn in a room together, and I'll also agree to your specialist seeing Jeff." He inhaled deeply, brushed his nose across her cheek, and then brushed his lips across hers again briefly, before kissing them again slowly.

It wasn't a long kiss, as far as kisses went. They certainly kissed longer the night before he went away, when they made love, but for some reason this felt like their first kiss. The tenderness and sweetness of it stunned Hermione more than anything else did. It tasted sweet, it tasted of nostalgia, wistfulness, want, yearning, and of all the things in which she ever wanted and felt she could never have. This kiss was the thing she was running away from, and the thing she was hoping to find.

One of his hands caressed her face, his palm holding her cheek so gently she wanted to weep. She couldn't defend herself against a kiss like this. He tugged her bottom lip, and stroked her face once more.

She made a sort of moaning noise, because he was now kissing her jaw and it felt very nice. She knew she had to end this kiss or she would make another mistake and make love to him right there on the classroom floor. She rasped out, "Um, first of all, I never said one word about us sharing a room when we went to Hogsmeade, and I already sent the specialist an Owl, and as coincidence would have it, he's coming to dinner tonight."

Kissing over to her ear, he asked, "Who is this specialist?"

"Anthony Goldstein."

Draco pushed away from the wall and glared at her in shock.

* * *

_ I have to admit, that shocked me a bit. I sense trouble brewing, don't you?_


	12. Chapter 12

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 12 – What's in a Name? (Aka –If a Cat has Kittens and Wool Makes Mittens, What in the World does that Mean in the Scheme of Things?)**

A former Slytherin sat at the head of a table. A former Gryffindor sat to his right. A former Ravenclaw with dark hair sat at the opposite end, and on the other side sat two children, a girl named Marie and a boy named Jeff.

The Slytherin was staring daggers at the Ravenclaw. His dislike was blatant, obvious, and direct. The Slytherin wondered how the Ravenclaw could have given Hermione up so easily. Was he a fool? Ravenclaws were renowned intellectuals, yet this man had to have had sawdust in his head! Why, Draco only slept with her once and he already knew that he wanted to be a part of her life in one capacity or another! Charles fell in love with her after one date, and they hadn't even had a physical relationship, and yet this smarmy bastard – former Ravenclaw Goldstein – and Granger had dated for a while (Draco didn't know how long) and here he gave her up without a care or a consideration!

Well, Draco was a former Slytherin! He didn't care if the former Ravenclaw did try to sink his talons back into Hermione's tender flesh, because Draco wouldn't give Granger up without a fight, or at least a serious scuffle!

The Ravenclaw, who was nobody's fool, was highly aware that the Slytherin was staring at him with hate in his eyes, and that at least every other minute he was making biting and hateful comments directed toward him, but Anthony felt he was above reproach, too mature for such antics, so he tried his best to ignore the blond man. Besides, he was here in a professional capacity AND as a favour for Hermione to help Draco's ward, a poor orphan who lost his parents tragically and somehow lost his ability to speak in the process.

When Anthony first arrived here this evening, he felt something was off kilter between Hermione and Malfoy. Malfoy seemed angry with her and she seemed almost weary of him. When she Owled him about Jeff's condition, she told him that Malfoy wasn't even staying here, so why did his presence cause Hermione to behave as if she were walking around on pins and needles? In addition, why did Malfoy seem to be angrier and more sullen than usual?

Anthony wasn't a former Ravenclaw for nothing! He was observant and smart and he knew something was definitely off between the two of them! If he didn't know any better, he would say that the animosity that they felt when they were children was back, tenfold, and Hermione was in all probability only staying here out of a sense of obligation to the children. In Anthony's opinion, she always did feel that 'martyrdom' was synonymous with 'Hermione'.

The Gryffindor was ignoring both men. She didn't know why one was acting so hateful and the other was acting so haughty, so she decided to act as if they both were persons non grata and she directed most of her conversation toward the boy and the girl directly in front of her.

However, it was only the girl who spoke back in return, because the boy couldn't speak. Hence, the reason for the debacle of a dinner in which they all found themselves.

"Dr. Goldstein?" Marie asked hesitantly, for the first time directing a comment toward the visiting wizard.

"Yes, Marie?" Anthony answered.

"Do you think you'll be able to help my brother speak again?"

He smiled with genuine warmth at the girl and said, "I certainly hope so. That's why HG asked me to come here today."

"Why do you call her HG?" Marie asked.

Anthony's smile increased as he looked over at Hermione. "You take this one, HG."

Hermione smiled in return and said to Marie, "When we were dating, we realized early on that if we ever married that I wouldn't have to change my initials, and somehow, that got me to calling him AG and him to calling me HG and it stuck."

Draco snorted from his side of the table. "What a perfectly stupid nickname and a perfectly ridiculous story. As if you would change your last name if you married anyway."

Hermione, Marie and Anthony all stared at Draco for a moment and then Hermione said, "Well, that's sort of the point in a way, Malfoy."

Marie interjected, "I think it's a lovely nickname. My boyfriend used to call me Mary Contrary and I hated it."

Draco looked shocked and said, "You don't have a boyfriend! You're entirely too young to have a boyfriend!"

"Well I do," Marie announced, "or at least, I did. His name was Justin."

Draco looked at Jeff, poked him with his spoon and asked, "Did you know about this? I say, chatterbox, stop eating for a second and answer me!"

Jeff looked up briefly, continued to eat, but nodded his head yes to Draco's question. Draco looked over at Hermione and asked, "Did you?"

"She told me about him," Hermione confessed. "She's thirteen, Malfoy. I loved Ron Weasley at that age."

"Ugh, don't remind me. The thought of you ever loving the Weasel makes me sick!" Draco said with a foul look on his face.

"The Weasel?" Marie asked, looking at Hermione, then her brother, who shrugged again.

"Another nickname," Hermione clarified. "He called my friend Ron, 'Weasel', his younger sister 'the Weaselette', and Harry Potter all sorts of names ranging from 'Scarhead' to 'Pothead'. With Harry it was always something to do with his head or his scar."

Jeff pointed from Hermione to Draco. Marie asked, "Jeff wants to know what everyone called him. What was Draco's nickname?"

Draco slammed his hands on the table as a warning and said, "If you value your existence on this planet, Granger, you won't say a word."

Hermione smiled, and then looked at Anthony. Anthony grinned in return and said, "I believe Hermione's friends might have called Draco 'Ferret'. Now we in Ravenclaw called him 'The Spoiled Prince'."

Draco sneered at Anthony.

Jeff pointed at Hermione this time and Marie translated, "Jeff wants to know what Draco called you."

Draco shook his head an infinitesimal amount, but he needn't have done so, for Hermione clasped her hands in front of her, looked serenely at her charges and said, "He called me 'know-it-all' and 'bookworm' and those sorts of names, because I was rather a teacher's pet sort of girl."

"Those aren't the only nicknames he called you in school, as I recall," Anthony said snidely.

"Anthony," Hermione warned.

Inquisitive as ever, Marie, with Jeff looking on, asked Draco, "What else did you call her?"

Draco looked uncomfortable. He pulled at his collar, cleared his throat and lied, "I don't recall. Do you, Granger?"

"No, I don't," she lied as well.

"I do," Anthony replied.

Hermione kicked him under the table, which made Anthony wince and Draco smile, which he didn't even try to hide.

"What was it?" Marie asked, her eyes bright with wonderment.

Hermione glared at Anthony with a stare that said, '_don't you dare'_, but he said, "I believe in being truthful to children, HG." He turned toward Marie and asked, "Has Hermione taught you about derogatory terms that some wizards use sometimes for Muggle-borns?"

Marie sucked in her breath and looked at Draco. "You called her that word? A Mudblood?"

Jeff opened his mouth in shock, too.

Draco threw down his napkin and looked at Hermione. "You taught them that word!"

"Well…" she began, only to stutter and stop. She looked at Anthony and leveled, "You're supposed to be helpful here! How is that being helpful?"

Marie looked down at her plate and said sadly, "Hermione told us that's akin to calling a black person the 'N' word, or a gay person a queer." She looked up at Draco. "Our mother was Irish Catholic, and people used to call her bad names sometimes because of that."

Draco let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. Marie looked so disappointed in him. He looked from her to her brother. Jeff pushed his plate away from him and was now staring at the table. Draco stood from his chair and went around to the children's seats. He pulled Marie's chair out from the table, and went down on his knees.

Grabbing her hands, he explained, "I'm so sorry, Marie. I was a thoughtless young man when I called Hermione that bad word. I haven't called her or any other Muggle-born that for a very long time. I suppose since her education has been so thorough that she's told you about how my father was a Death Eater?"

Marie shook her head no. Jeff looked up and placed his hand on Draco's shoulder. Draco turned his head toward the boy just as Jeff was also shaking his head no. "Well, then, I guess I have some educating to do with you two myself, which I'll do later on tonight. Listen, the point is, when she told you about Voldemort and blood prejudice and all that, to someone like me, it was very real. It was how I was raised. I was raised to believe that purebloods were better than half-bloods or Mudbloods. It's not right. It was wrong. As long as Hermione has forgiven me, and I know that it's wrong, that's all that matters, right?"

Marie hugged Draco around the neck, and Jeff leaned over and gave him a partial hug as well. Draco looked up at Anthony and had the undeniable urge to stick out his tongue and call him a _foul name_, but he didn't, because that would be a BAD example to set for the children.

He stood up and went back to his seat just as the maid was clearing away the dinner plates to make way for the pudding. "Guess your ingenious plan to turn my children against me backfired, Mr. Ravenclaw."

Anthony ignored that comment and volunteered, "Marie, Draco's correct in that he was raised to think a certain way, and after all, he was in Slytherin, so he can't be held responsible for the way he acted as a child. However, when we become adults, we are all responsible for our deeds."

"Says the self-righteous Ravenclaw," Draco snipped.

Jeff always kept a small notebook with him, so he furiously wrote down something and then showed it to his sister. She read it and then asked, "Jeff wants to know why it seems to matter so much what house everyone belonged to back when you were in school, especially now that you're adults."

"He wrote all of that, that quickly?" Draco asked, amused. He pulled the notebook to himself and laughed when he saw it said, "_Hogwarts Houses." _Draco showed the notebook page to Hermione and said, "I guess Marie is as adept at knowing what Jeff wants as you always were at knowing what your two sidekicks wanted, Granger."

"At least my two sidekicks had more than two brain cells in their heads, unlike your two sidekicks, Malfoy," Hermione responded sweetly. She looked at Marie and said, "Remember the story from 'Hogwarts a History' about the forming of the separate houses, Marie?"

At the mentioning of 'Hogwarts a History' both grown men groaned and then they looked at each other and laughed. Hermione stared at one then the other and said, "Stop laughing at me!"

Marie smiled and asked Anthony, "So you were in Ravenclaw, right Dr. Goldstein?"

"Please call me Anthony, and yes, I was. Only the brightest and the smartest people were in Ravenclaw. Hence the reason Malfoy was in Slytherin."

"HA!" Draco barked exaggeratedly. "If that's true, then why wasn't Granger in Ravenclaw? She was the brightest witch in our year! Hell, in our entire school! Explain that one, Mr. Smart Ravenclaw, if you please."

Marie looked pleased and asked, "Were you, Hermione?"

Hermione shrugged, blushing. Anthony reached over for her hand (which irked Draco), and said, "Every single Ravenclaw pondered that question, believe me, Malfoy. She should have been ours. The only thing we could ever come up with was that Potter must have needed her, and Dumbledore must have known that, so he did some magic of his own and she was in Gryffindor instead."

"Right, that's the only reason. She couldn't have been in Gryffindor because of her bravery or her steadfast friendships or loyalty, right?" Draco asked, sarcastically.

Hermione snapped her head in his direction and said, "Malfoy, that's one of the nicest things you've ever said to me."

"It is?" he asked. "If that's true, that's rather sad," he acknowledged.

"I agree, that is sad," Anthony agreed. Turning toward Marie again, he asked, "What house do you wish to belong, young Marie?"

"Well, our mother was a Muggle, and our father a pureblood, but from our understanding of things, that doesn't preclude me from belonging to Slytherin," she began. "Our father never spoke of his magical side, so I don't know much about any of it, but according to 'Hogwarts a History' the dorm is in a dungeon, under a lake. I think that would be super cool, but the house colours are green and silver, and I don't know if I like those colours, although I think I'd rather sleep in a basement than in a tower."

Hermione couldn't stop a giggle escaping. Draco frowned and lectured, "Your birthright is to be in Slytherin, young lady, whether you like green and silver be damned."

"Yes, but I look exceptionally good in yellow," Marie argued.

Draco pushed his pie away from him. Jeff quickly grabbed it even as Draco said, "I suppose that means you want to be in Gryffindor? Red and gold?"

"No," Marie said plainly. "I said yellow. I was thinking Hufflepuff."

Hermione laughed outright because Draco slammed his hands on the table again. Even Anthony looked outraged.

"NO!" Draco shouted. "I forbid you to be in Hufflepuff! I absolutely forbid it! I promised your father I'd look out for you and what kind of guardian would I be if I allowed you to be in Hufflepuff!"

Jeff looked highly amused, because he knew his sister was having fun at the adults' expense. Marie said, "You won't be able to stop it; if that's where the hat puts me, that's where I'll be."

Anthony interrupted with, "Marie, I can scarcely make a judgment as to which house at Hogwarts you might belong, as I've only just met you, but I'm an excellent judge of character, and I can tell that you, my dear, are no Hufflepuff." Anthony smiled and leaned back in his seat. "On that note, how about Jeff and I taking a walk around the back garden?"

Jeff suddenly looked worried. He sank down in his seat, pushing Draco's plate of pie away from him and looking over to his sister.

"May I come, too?" Marie asked.

"Not this time," Anthony proposed. "I think this time only Jeff and I should go. I feel like I've been well introduced to you tonight, Marie. Now I need to get to know Jeff." Anthony pushed away from the table and stood. "Jeff?"

Jeff looked over at Hermione and then to Draco. Draco wanted to tell Jeff that he didn't have to go anywhere with that pompous arse, former Ravenclaw if he didn't want to go with him, but still, he felt in the bottom of his cold, former Slytherin heart that Goldstein might be able to help the boy.

Draco nodded and said, "Go with Dr. Goldstein, Jeff. I'll be here when you return. I promise. I won't be anywhere else."

Nodding in return, Jeff pushed away from the table, picked up his notebook and pencil and left the dining room with Anthony. Marie started for the door, but Draco called her back.

"But my brother might need me!" Marie beseeched.

"He needs to speak more than he needs anything else," Hermione answered for Draco. "Let Anthony see if he can help him, Marie. I promise he won't do anything to distress him. Trust me."

She ran from the room without a backwards glance, her long brown hair swaying behind her, her footstep heavy on the stairs. Hermione placed her weary head in her hands and rubbed her forehead. "Well, that was a pleasant dinner, wasn't it?"

* * *

_A/N - I'm having rotator cuff surgery and may be out of commission for a while. (I don't know if I'll be able to type) so this may be the last chapter for a couple of weeks or so. Enjoy!_


	13. Chapter 13

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 13 – Congratulations, You're Not Going to be a Father**

Hermione placed her weary head in her hands and rubbed her forehead. "Well, that was a pleasant dinner, wasn't it?" Closing her eyes, she felt Draco's hand descend on her neck and for the first time since they entered the dining room that evening she felt a sense of ease, just from his touch. He began to rub the taut muscles of her neck slowly, carefully, his long, agile fingers splayed against her neck and shoulders, showing mercy, granting relief from stress, showing care and devotion.

A girl could get used to something like this.

Moving her hair to the side, he leaned down and whispered in her ear, "I don't know what you ever saw in that ostentatious arse." His fingers continued to work their magic, and she shivered all over. Running his hands up and down her arms made her shudder again, so much so that she had to push away from the table. Draco practically tripped away from the back of her chair.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, standing up quickly, rushing to the other side of the table. "That felt so good that I had to stop you."

"That makes a hell of a lot of sense," he argued with a sly smile.

"Draco, the children…" she started.

"Will be fine," he finished. He began to stalk her around the table. Hermione walked backwards, one hand in front of her. Draco walked forward, one hand in front of him. He grasped her hand quickly. They continued their odd dance around the table as they spoke, her other hand going out behind her occasionally, to grasp the back of a chair or the corner of the table to steady herself.

"Draco," she warned, "we have to be prudent. You can't go around rubbing my neck any old time you please."

"Yes, because neck rubbing is so intimate and daring," he mocked, raising his brows. "We don't want to teach the children about neck rubbing before they're at least fifteen or sixteen years old. Neck rubbing leads to all sorts of things like hand holding and thumb wrestling."

They were on the other side of the table by now and she continued her remonstration as he continued his rebuttal.

She said, "Seriously, what was with you and Anthony this evening? You were both behaving dreadfully. You were acting like two dogs who were sharing one bone."

"You being the bone," he drawled. He reached for her other hand. They were at the end of the table by now, and he pulled her up to his chest, and forced her to stop her backwards descent away from him.

"Don't be crude," she complained. "I will not be compared to a bone!"

"It's the truth," he whispered, his mouth coming down to sweep across her cheek. "That man still has feelings for you, and you know how I feel."

She shook her head no as his mouth moved from her cheek to her neck. She couldn't speak, so she continued to shake her head 'no', as he released her hands to place his around her waist. Her hands crept slowly up his chest to his neck.

"Oh, yes he does," he continued, his lips moving to nibble on her ear. Her knees buckled slightly and he pulled her plush against his hard body to keep her from falling.

"Draco, please. Stop this," she argued, with no real intent. "And Anthony doesn't care two shakes about me. When I left two months ago, he didn't even seem that upset when I told him that I thought we shouldn't see each other anymore." She finally heaved away from his chest with all her might and extricated herself from his arms.

Backing away from him again she said, "Seriously, Malfoy, Anthony doesn't care about me, not anymore, maybe he never did. We were never serious about each other, not really, so if that's why you were acting as you were tonight, then you need to get over it. I don't belong to Anthony Goldstein any more than I belong to you."

Then she turned around and stormed out of the dining room just as Marie had done earlier. She left Draco behind and as she started toward the stairs, she saw Anthony and Jeff in the hallway near the front door. Anthony was saying something to Jeff and Jeff was writing something to Anthony in his notebook. As they both saw Hermione, they acknowledged her with joint nods of their heads, then Jeff ran up the stairs and Anthony waited for Hermione by the front door.

Draco watched the entire exchange from the doorway of the dining room.

Anthony opened the front door and stood on the threshold to wait for Hermione. She placed her hand in his outstretched one. Raising their joined hands to his mouth, he kissed her knuckles and then said, "Join me outside for a moment."

"Is this about Jeff? If it is, we should get Malfoy," she suggested.

"This is about you," he clarified.

She gave him a confused look but then pulled her hand from his, grabbed her sweater from the coat tree and then followed him out the front door. Draco went to the front parlor, looked out the window, and opened the sash slowly, quietly, to listen. If this was about Hermione, he felt he had every right to listen, just as he would if it were about Jeff or Marie.

Hermione and Anthony stood outside, past the front stoop, by the circular windows of the front parlor, and Anthony sighed before he took her hands. "How are you, really, HG? You seem tired, but even more than that, you seem…I don't know, weary or overwrought or something."

'_How about merely pregnant?'_ she thought. "I'm fine, Anthony. You aren't here for me, though, remember?" she chastised. "What's your professional opinion on Jeff?"

"I need to see him again, but I think it's a traumatic muteness, brought on by something he witnessed. I really need to investigate how the mother died. Do you have any more information for me?" he asked, still holding both her hands. He placed them on his chest. Draco pulled back the drapes and watched, feeling jealous, but yet curious as well.

"No, just what I told you that Malfoy told me. Perhaps the Muggle police know more, or Harry might be able to help. The Aurors might have looked into it, I don't know. You might ask Harry. So you don't think it's a curse?"

"It wouldn't hurt to have someone who's an expert at Dark Magic and curses to have a look at him, but my gut instincts is that he isn't speaking because he's afraid to speak," Anthony explained.

"I was afraid of that," Hermione sighed and placed her head on Anthony's chest. He rubbed his hand down her long hair.

Draco definitely felt jealous now. He hissed to himself, "Nothing between you anymore, aye, Granger?"

"I'll have Harry have a look at him," Hermione offered. "If anyone is an expert on Dark Magic, it would be him." She lifted her head, looked up at Anthony and asked, "When would you like to see him again? This coming weekend we're going to Hogwarts, so perhaps next week?"

"Next week would be fine. I'll send you an Owl with my availability," he agreed. "Now, I want to know, why do you seem so different? Is everything all right here? Is Malfoy being ghastly to you?"

"What?" She smiled as she said it and pushed away from his chest. "He's not being awful to me. Where did you get that idea?"

Draco snarled and whispered from his hiding place inside, "Yeah, Goldstein. I'm being the complete opposite of ghastly! If you only knew how unghastly I've been, you prat!"

"I could feel the tension in the air," Anthony justified. "There's something between you two that wasn't there before, I know it. Some sort of tension."

"Yeah, it's called sexual tension, moron," Draco whispered almost too loudly, for Hermione and Anthony both looked toward the partially opened window. Draco ducked over to the side and held his breath, hoping he hadn't been discovered. Apparently he hadn't, for they continued their conversation.

Hermione took one of Anthony's hands back into hers and said, "There's no tension. I promise you."

"Don't lie, not to me," he warned. "I can tell something's wrong. We might not have dated very long, but I've known you for a long time, HG, and there's something definitely different about you."

She was dying to tell someone! Why not tell Anthony? She knew he wouldn't tell another soul, and he wouldn't judge, and it wasn't as if they were still dating, so what was the harm?

"Anthony, if I tell you, you have to promise not to tell a single soul, alright? I mean it, it's a secret for right now," she warned. "I'm not ready for others to know yet."

Draco leaned closer to the window, as Anthony leaned closer to Hermione.

"I promise. You can tell me anything, Hermione, you know that. Are you ill? Is that's what's wrong?" Anthony wondered.

Draco leaned closer to the window, ears at the ready.

She bit her bottom lip and forged ahead, announcing, "I'm pregnant."

Draco gasped and had to place his hand over his mouth. Anthony was able to let his gasp escape loudly enough for both of them. Anthony asked, "Are you certain?"

"Of course I am," she huffed. "It's not exactly something one can be unsure of at this stage of the game."

"This isn't good, HG," Anthony lectured. He paced in front of her and said, "What are you going to do about it?"

Draco felt like hitting the man. In all likelihood, the portentous son-of-a-bitch was the father, since he was her last boyfriend, and instead of being supportive, all he could tell her was, _"This isn't good,"_ and "_What are __**you**__ going to do about it?"_ Draco knew what he was going to do! He was going to run a wand right up the other man's arse!

"What do you mean, what am I going to do about it?" Hermione asked back, somewhat angrily. "I'm having this baby, Anthony, that's what I'm doing about it!"

"Yeah," Draco hissed, making a fist with his right hand, wishing he could run it into the other man's nose.

"But, HG! You'll ruin your career! Your school is just getting off the ground and you know how people in the wizarding community feel about single mothers!"

"I wasn't really planning on being a single mother," she said sadly. "I didn't plan any of this. I didn't do all of this on my own, you know."

That statement made Draco feel so sad for her. Anthony Goldstein was a cad of the worst degree. He wasn't going to do the honorable thing and offer her any support or marriage! Well, hoorah, for Draco didn't want Granger to have anything to do with that man, whether or not she was having his baby or not…wait a minute, what did Anthony just ask her? Gads, if Draco weren't so deep into his thoughts of maiming and possibly killing Goldstein, he wouldn't have missed the man's question. He had better lean closer to the window so he at least could hear Granger's answer.

"No, I'm sure. It's not like I sleep around. You should know that better than anyone should. I know who the father is, Anthony, since I never slept with you."

Draco placed both hands over his mouth to keep from shouting. YEAH! Goldstein wasn't the father!

Wait a minute, wait a minute, WAIT A BLOODY, FUCKING MINUTE! If Goldstein wasn't the father, then who in hell was the father of Granger's baby? Draco's mind still a muddled mess, he realized the pair outside were still talking and that he was missing more important 'eavesdropping' information, so he stopped breathing and leaned against the opened window just in time to hear Anthony ask, "Are you that sure he's the father?"

WHO? Draco's mind was in a whirl! Was she sure '_who_' was the father? Draco missed the most vital information: The Father's name! Then, she said the one thing that shocked Draco beyond all reason.

"Yes, I'm sure," she stated, "I only slept him once, but that's all it takes – once. Just my luck, right? And he left the next morning after we made love. So now you know why I've been acting so odd around Malfoy."

Draco backed away from the window in surprise and fell over a footstool. He couldn't help yelling out in pain as his backside hit the floor. Landing on his back, he was shocked further when he stared up into the eyes of Marie and Jeff as they loomed over him.

"What's wrong, Draco?" Marie asked, staring down at him.

Breathing hard, he squeaked out, "I think I'm going to be a father."

* * *

_Thanks for all the well wishes for my surgery! I'm typing this one handed, so I don't know if I'll update soon or not._


	14. Chapter 14

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 14 – Marie Lies like a Malfoy, and Draco's so Very Proud**

Marie and Jeff were sitting on the middle of the steps while the adults were occupied elsewhere downstairs. Marie asked her brother, "What did Dr. Goldstein say to you when you took your walk with him?"

Jeff wrote something in his little notebook and then showed it to his sister. She frowned as she looked at the paper.

"I know you don't have to discuss it with me," she said, reading what her younger brother had written. "I don't need him to tell you that, or you to tell me that, but if you want to, you can."

He wrote something else and showed it to her. She read that piece of paper and then tore it from the small notebook, balled it in her fist and threw it over the railing, after which she frowned at her brother. "Fine, then maybe I don't want to talk to you about things either!" She stood up and started down the stairs when she stopped suddenly at the sound of Draco's strangled scream from the room below. She looked at her brother and said, "Come on!"

Jeff stood up quickly and together he and Marie rushed toward the sound of the scream.

They found Draco on his back in the front parlor off the stairs. It was apparent that he had fallen over a footstool. He was lying on his back, rubbing his head, which had struck the wooden spindle leg of a wingback chair.

"What's wrong, Draco?" Marie asked, staring down at him.

Breathing hard, he squeaked out, "I think I'm going to be a father."

Jeff pointed at Draco and then implored his sister to question him further with a fierce shrug, which was not needed, as Marie was already on her knees beside their guardian. She looked at the opened window, where the curtains were partly hanging from the rod, and she said, "Were you eavesdropping on Hermione? Did you hear her say something to Dr. Goldstein? Did she say that she was pregnant? Why would you assume you're the father? Well?"

Draco suddenly wished for TWO mute wards, or at least a mute and a deaf one. He placed his right hand on the back of his head, brought the same hand back to his face, saw blood, moaned, and said, "Bloody hell, I think I have a brain injury," and then he slumped back down on the ground and moaned again.

Moments before that, back outside, Hermione asked Anthony, "What was that? I think I heard somebody from inside scream!" She turned toward the house, saw that the parlor window was partially opened, turned back toward Anthony and said, "Perhaps you should Disapparate home. I think the children need me. I'll be in touch."

"Wait a moment," Anthony begged, holding onto her arm. "Draco's inside. If something's wrong with the children, he can see to them. You have to remember that you're just their teacher. See, this is the problem. You can't become overly involved with them. It's not good for them, and it's not good for you. Besides, you can't just tell me you're pregnant and then rush away. We have to discuss this! Also, if Charles Warrington is the father of your child, he has a right to know you're pregnant, don't you think?"

Hermione immediately regretted telling Anthony about her pregnancy **and** who the baby's father was! "Yes, well, if he ever shows his face in London again, I'll be sure to tell him, Anthony! Better yet, why don't you find him and tell him for me, Mr. Self-Righteous, hmm?" she snapped, wrenching her arm from his grasp. "Now, I insist you go home. Goodbye." Without waiting for a response, she ran toward the house.

Jeff dropped to the floor by his sister and Draco's body. He reached up to rub his hand over Draco's head even as his sister asked, "What did you say? What did you mean by saying you think you're a father?"

Draco started to repeat his sentence when he heard the front door slam and then the sounds of footsteps in the hallway outside the parlor. He got up on his elbows and he said, "Nothing. I meant nothing. Please, forget I said that. Don't say anything to Hermione. I'm talking out of my head. People with head injuries do that all the time. All I meant was that I'm your father now, isn't that grand?"

Marie wanted to question (and contradict) that statement further, but Hermione ran into the room just as he finished that sentence. She rushed to the man on the ground, surrounded by the children who were also on the ground beside him.

"What happened?" she asked in a hurry, falling to her knees. She reached for Draco's face, stroked it lightly, and then she looked over his body. His foot was resting on top of the overturned footstool, and the chair beside that was turned at an angle. She also noticed that the window was open and the curtains were askew. His hand was covered with blood. She took that hand in hers and held it, searching all over his body for the source of bleeding.

Draco took in the scene as Hermione took in the scene and he knew immediately that Hermione would suspect something was afoul. His eyes locked in on Hermione's eyes. She was asking him all sorts of questions with one look. He glanced from Hermione's eyes to Marie's and he had a lie at the ready when suddenly, Marie said, "I was standing on the footstool, to try to shut the window that I opened earlier, and I began to falter, and Draco came up behind me. He frightened me by saying 'boo' and I screamed, and in the melee, we both fell, and he got the worst of it by hitting his head. He might have a concussion. You might have to nurse him tonight, Hermione."

All Hermione could think was…_what a load of shite_. Then she thought..._melee_? She reached behind Draco's head and saw that he was indeed bleeding.

"You opened the window?" Hermione asked Marie as Draco sat up straighter with his back against the wingback chair. Now all four occupants of the room were sitting on the floor in a circle, Draco across from Hermione, Jeff across from Marie. Hermione's hand fell from Draco's head to rest on Draco's chest, and he liked it there, very much. She didn't even notice it. Jeff noticed, so did Marie. They liked it there, too.

"Yes, I opened it to eavesdrop on you and Dr. Goldstein. I thought he might be talking to you about Jeff," she lied further. Draco's eyes became wide as saucers, because he didn't know why she was lying for him. Hermione's eyes became wide because she was afraid the young girl was telling the truth, and she was afraid of what she might have overheard, and Jeff's were wider than them all, because he also knew his sister was lying, and he had a feeling he knew why, and he liked it a lot. He wanted Hermione and Draco to become a couple as much as Marie did.

"We weren't talking about Jeff, I promise you that," Hermione explained. "Did you overhear anything?"

"No, Draco came in before I heard anything, I swear," Marie expounded. "He saw that I was eavesdropping and he meant to scare me, hence the reason he surprised me. I know it was wrong to eavesdrop," she looked right at Draco, "wasn't it Draco? Wasn't it wrong to eavesdrop?"

Draco merely nodded, while rubbing his sore head, feeling chagrined that he needed a thirteen-year-old girl to teach him the morals of the evils of eavesdropping, even if she was lying to do it. "But I've learned my lesson, haven't I, Draco," she reiterated, which Draco nodded again. "I won't do it anymore, Hermione. I'm sorry. I really didn't hear anything."

"Well, I think you should go on upstairs, get ready for bed, but no telly tonight as punishment," Hermione scolded. She looked at Draco and said, "Don't you agree, Draco?"

Draco looked shocked and said, "Well, that's a bit extreme…I mean…she learned her lesson…and she apologized…and as I'm the one that got hurt…not her, she can watch telly in her room if she wants."

Marie stood up and said, "No, I think Hermione's punishment is fair." She held out her hand for Jeff and said, "Come along Jeff. Let's leave Draco and Hermione alone. Hermione needs to get Draco upstairs and tend to his head injury. He might have a concussion or something serious like that." The children started out of the room, but stalled when they reached the door. Marie turned back and said, "I really am sorry, Hermione."

"No harm done," Hermione said from the floor, her hand resting harmlessly on Draco's thigh now. Marie and Draco were highly aware of that fact, even if Hermione wasn't. Marie smiled slightly, looked at Draco, and said, "Our conversation, Draco, isn't over yet, though is it? I'm sure you still want to talk to me later, right? Finish the conversation that we started before you fell, so you can explain to me what you meant when you said what you said."

"What I meant? What I said?" Draco asked, hoping Marie would think he was confused or addled because of his injury, even though he knew perfectly well what the girl was trying to say to him.

"We don't have to discuss it tonight, but I want to further discuss a certain subject, about the thing you said, right before you fell," Marie prompted slowly, knowing now that Draco knew what she meant. She wanted to know if he had really overheard if Hermione was pregnant of not, and she wanted to know what he meant when he said that he was a father!

"What?" Draco asked, densely.

Hermione interrupted the strange interlude by prompting, "I thought he merely said, 'boo!' and then he fell."

Jeff laughed silently and left the room. Marie stomped her foot and then glared at Draco for a few moments and then Draco finally said (just to get rid of the girl), "Oh yes, right, sure, I'll be up shortly and tuck you and Jeff in bed and I'll finish dishing out your punishment. Right, right you are, Marie, good girl, run along."

Satisfied, and feeling as if she had Draco at her mercy, and that she had also thrown Hermione and Draco together, the young girl smiled again and said, "I'll talk to you later." She bounded from the room.

Hermione looked back over at the opened window and said, "I wonder if she really didn't hear anything."

"I think I can promise you that she didn't," Draco said sincerely. He placed his hand on Hermione's hand, on top of his thigh.

She turned her attention to his head and said, "Let me look at your head, Malfoy. Marie's right, you might have a concussion. I didn't think of that at first. If you do, we don't want to play around with that. It can be dangerous." Hermione went up to her knees as her right hand went to his scalp. He looked down at her stomach. She had on a large knit sweater, and he couldn't tell if she looked pregnant or not. She began to speak to him but he paid her no mind, as he continued to look at her midsection.

"Malfoy, did you hear me?" she asked.

"No, what did you ask?" He looked up into her eyes, wondering, beseeching, and asking her to be truthful with him.

"I asked you if you wanted to go to St. Mungo's. You're bleeding. Did you not hear me, or did you not understand what I was asking? Gee, you really might have a concussion."

"Can't you cure me?" He sighed, pushed her hands away, and then stood, feeling somnolent, weird, wonderful, excited, angry, and strange. Could this woman be pregnant after only having had sex with him once? If so, why would she keep it a secret?

This time she didn't answer him because she didn't understand his sudden strange mood.

He looked down at her and said, "Well, why are you still on the floor? Are you going to heal my head wound or not?" He extended his hand to her and helped her to stand. She kept her hand in his and led him up the stairs to her bathroom. He didn't question the wheres or whys of it. He merely followed. He loved the feel of holding her hand. The baser fact remained that he loved following her. Did that mean that he loved her? No. Not at all. Probably not. Well, maybe. Could be. It was hard to tell. He had a head injury.

Draco sat on the edge of the vanity in her bathroom as she gathered the supplies she would need to heal him. Wetting a cloth, she stood between his knees, the warmth of her body warding away a chill that had filled Draco for most of his life. Her breath tingled the side of his neck as she stood in front of him, her hand parting the back of his hair. He placed his hands on her waist, naturally. While they were there, he tried to tell if she was pregnant, but he couldn't tell a single thing. The only thing he could tell was that he desired her, pregnant or not.

She cleaned the wound with good old-fashioned Muggle soap and water, and then she asked him, "Was Marie telling the truth?" She turned him slightly and patted his hair dry with a terrycloth towel.

He flinched. Not from pain, but from her questioning. "You think she's lying? You think things didn't happen as she said?" Draco jumped off the sink. Standing slightly to the right of her, he looked at her in the mirror.

"I just wonder if she heard anything, that's all," Hermione said softly. She walked behind Draco and reached up to his hair again. Her hand was so soft on his scalp, parting his hair, rubbing around the wound gently. "You have a slight bump. You'll need to be checked every couple of hours, in case you have a concussion."

Still watching her in the mirror, he looked at her waist and wondered if she had a slight bump. He suggested, "I should sleep in your room with you, so you can watch me. That would be easier for both of us."

She didn't look at him. Her mind was a jumbled mess. She wanted to know if Marie had heard anything. She regretted telling Anthony she was pregnant. She wanted Draco Malfoy. She nodded and said, "I suppose so." She touched her wand to his scalp wound lightly, said a silent spell, (although he watched her lips move silently in the mirror as she did so), and then she said, "Does it still hurt?"

He shook his head no. His head didn't hurt, though another part of his anatomy did, especially when he watched her lips.

Taking his hand, she left her wand on the bathroom sink and led him to her bedroom. She ushered him to her bed and practically pushed him to lie upon it. Once he was on his back, she sat by his hip, her hand on his chest, and she said, "I'll tuck the children in and then I'll come back and check on you. Kick your shoes off and get comfortable." Leaning down, she placed a hand gently on his cheek, then kissed him on the forehead. "I'm sorry you hit your head, Draco."

As she started to rise, he grabbed her wrist to keep her there and pleaded, "Take off your sweater, Hermione."

* * *

_*A/N - Doing much better since my surgery. Sent FOUR chapters to my beta - got this one back and the rest are soon to follow! Thanks for all the lovely reviews and well wishes!_


	15. Chapter 15

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 15 – A Head Injured Malfoy Makes an Odd Bedfellow**

"Take off your sweater, Hermione," Draco begged.

She smiled, and then expelled a small laugh as she stood. "Are you trying to get me undressed?" He still held her wrist.

He smiled in returned, a sly smile, and his hand began creeping up under the sleeve of her sweater. "You told me to remove my shoes; I think if I have to remove something, you should, too." If all went well he would have her sweater off, she would tell him if she were pregnant, AND they might have sex. It was a win/win situation!

"It's chilly this evening. I'll leave it on." She patted his chest lightly with her hand and moved as if she was going to walk away again.

"I only want to have a better look at you," he requested as she stood in front of him. She wondered what he meant by that statement, when he sat up and tugged on the tail of her sweater. He pulled her toward him, wrapped his arms around her middle, underneath her sweater, and placed his head neatly against her middle, his cheek flat against an apparent bump. Leaning against her, he smelled her scent. She smelled sweet, like flowers – jasmine or roses or lavender or something. No, it was honeysuckle. Definitely, honeysuckle. His head was spinning from the head injury and from the close proximity of the woman in his arms.

Drawing her close, he found immediate comfort as her arms went around him in return; therefore, he forgot in the beginning when he drew her close to ascertain if she were pregnant, hence he wasn't even aware until now that he felt an obvious swell against his cheek. Merlin! She WAS pregnant. Hermione Granger was pregnant.

She stroked his hair, his back, his neck with her hands. He felt so relaxed and comforted. More than that, he felt at peace with the thought that she was pregnant with his child. He had finally done something right in his life! He felt a modicum of redemption when he started to take care of Charles' children, but having his own child was even better. It was perfect. She was perfect. Almost as perfect as the way her soft body fit flawlessly next to his.

Her curves juxtaposed nicely against his hard muscles. He wanted to ask her so many questions, but his head began to ache again. Before a single syllable fought for release, she kissed the top of his head, removed his arms from around her waist and pushed him to lie back in her bed.

Before she could escape, he reached once more for her, grabbing her wrist. "Don't go." In his head he sounded pathetic as he begged, '_Please, please, please.'_

Removing her wrist from his hand from where he had just grabbed it, she placed his hand on his chest. "Draco, you're acting like a child. I'll be back after I say goodnight to the children."

"Don't leave me yet," he complained. "I just found out."

"You just found out what?" she asked.

"What, oh, never mind," he said in return, feeling confused, his head aching, his body tense.

"If you start talking gibberish, I'll think your head injury is worse than it looks, and send you to a healer, Malfoy," she returned. She leaned down, kissed his forehead a second time, and then left to go tuck the children into bed.

He kicked off his shoes, threw his right arm over his face and said, "I really am going to be a father. Now what do I do?"

Heading to Jeff's room first, she found him at his desk drawing. "Time for bed, Jeff."

Jeff picked up his pad of parchment and pencil and hopped over to his bed. He wrote on the side of the parchment, **_"When are we going to Hogwarts?"_**

Hermione bent down, picked up a few things from the floor, placed them on his desk, and then said, "The day after tomorrow, for the whole weekend." She took the pad of parchment from him, placed it on the desk as well and then replaced it with his little notebook, turned on the small bedside lamp and then turned off the overhead light.

"Did you like Dr. Goldstein?" She reached up and stroked his hair.

Jeff smiled and nodded yes.

"Do you want to continue to see him?"

Another yes.

"Do you think he'll help you to talk again?"

Jeff didn't nod yes, nor did he shake his head no. He wrote something in his notebook and then handed the notebook to Hermione. She read the scribbled note and then said, "Fine, you're right, enough questions for tonight. Goodnight to you, too. See you in the morning." She bent down and kissed the top of his head before she left his room.

She entered the room next to his. "Draco went on to bed, Marie, so I'm going to tuck you in, if you don't mind. I doubt he'd really have punished you anyway."

Marie was reading in her bed as Hermione entered. Hermione pulled the book from Marie's fingers, slipped a bookmark in the pages to mark her place, placed the book on her bedside table and then said, "May I ask you a question, Marie?"

"Yes."

"Are you certain that you didn't hear anything when you were listening at the window?"

"I'm certain. In fact, I can promise you that I didn't," Marie swore. "Now, may I ask you a question, Hermione?"

"Anything," Hermione said with a smile, sitting on the bed next to the young girl.

"Are you pregnant?"

Hermione gasped. She stood up and said, "You did hear!"

Marie shook her head and said, "I swear I didn't! I didn't Hermione, I didn't! Are you, though?"

Hermione hugged her oversized sweater around her body tighter, but then she nodded her head yes. "I am. I'm four months pregnant." She hung her head and sat once more on the girl's bed. "If you didn't hear me tell Anthony, then how did you know?"

Marie's brain was going overtime. Four months pregnant! They hadn't been with Hermione for four months yet! The baby couldn't be Draco's, could it? When they first met Hermione, Draco told them that he hadn't seen Hermione in a while and that she didn't even like him! She looked at Hermione's stomach and wanted to say something like, _"You don't look pregnant_," but truthfully, Marie wouldn't know what someone would look like at 'four months pregnant'. Why did Malfoy think Hermione's baby was his?

She finally settled on lying again, figuring…_in for a penny…in for a pound_. "You're right; I did overhear you tell Dr. Goldstein that you're pregnant. I'm sorry. I won't tell anyone."

Hermione didn't know whether to believe her, but felt she had no other choice. "Marie, I'm not ready to talk about this to anyone yet."

"Why keep it a secret?" Marie asked straightforwardly.

Hermione was beginning to wonder that herself. In the beginning, it was because she wanted to tell the baby's father before she told others, but now she didn't think that was ever going to happen. She smiled warmly at the girl before her, cupped her cheek and said, "It's not a secret, it's just my business, not anyone else's for the time being, okay?" She turned to leave the room.

Marie decided to take a gamble and propose a very sensitive proposition. "Hermione?" Hermione turned to pause in the doorway. "I know I'm only thirteen years old, and you probably think of me as just a kid, but I'd like to think of myself as your friend, and as your friend, you can tell me who the father is, if you'd like."

Hermione looked at the beautiful, bright young woman before her and she felt torn. She wanted to tell someone. She told Anthony and THAT was a mistake. Instead of feeling relieved, she felt shoddier for telling him, because he made her feel small and guilty for being pregnant. He made her feel as if she had done something wrong, and as if her baby was a mistake and she didn't feel that way at all.

Still, this was an impressionable young woman and she could hardly tell her that it was a man with whom she had only dated once, even though in her heart of hearts she knew that she had fallen in love with the man, (even if she HAD only dated him once).

Oh, how she wished things were different. How she wished it were Draco's baby, and then she, Draco, these two children, and this baby could all be an instant family. It would all be perfect.

"I appreciate the offer, sweetheart, and if I ever feel the need to unload on anyone, I'll let you know. Now, get some sleep. We'll need to do a lot tomorrow to get ready for our trip to Hogwarts."

Marie gushed, "I wish it were Draco's baby. Then it would be like a brother or a sister to Jeff and me. That would be wonderful, wouldn't it?"

Hermione Marie's hair away from her face, and then kissed her on the forehead. "I was just thinking the same thing. Yes, that would be wonderful, very wonderful indeed."

Hermione walked down the stairs after tucking her pseudo family into bed. She decided to give Harry Potter a late night 'Floo'. It was time for confessions. She had already told him that she was pregnant before she left for Scotland, but she decided that she once again needed him desperately to find Charles Warrington, because she had to tell the man that she was pregnant so that she could tell Draco and the children, because Charles still had a right to know before anyone else.

She also needed Harry to drop by Hogwarts this weekend for an impromptu (in Hermione Granger speak that meant 'arranged') visit with young Jeffrey Ellington to see if his inability to speak was the result of a curse or Dark Magic. Lastly, she missed her oldest and dearest friend something fierce and wouldn't mind a late night chat with him.

Because she was positively bursting with the thought that she might love Draco Malfoy, and even though Harry would probably spontaneously combust if she told him that, she still had to confide it to someone. She couldn't tell Draco – not yet, not until all the business with Charles was resolved, so Harry was the next best person to tell.

Heading toward Draco's study, she closed the door behind her, sat by the large fireplace, opened the Floo and called out Harry's name.

Upstairs, young Marie waited until she heard the sounds of Hermione's footsteps on the lower level and then she moved slyly around the upper hallways toward Draco's room. Knocking on his door, she was startled when it was Hermione's bedroom door that opened.

"Marie?" Draco asked, one eye partially closed to block the dim light from the hallway. "Is something wrong? Did you need me?"

"You're in Hermione's room?" Marie asked, moving from Draco's doorstep over to Hermione's.

"Evidently. She wanted to keep a close eye on my head wound. I think it was your suggestion or something, wasn't it?" he said groggily. Leaning against the doorframe, he yawned and asked, "What can I do for you, sweetheart?"

"I couldn't begin to rest until I told you something," she said in a rush. Leaning even closer she finished, "Hermione confessed something to me, and even though I told her I wouldn't tell, I have to tell you, so you wouldn't worry. Hermione is pregnant. She told me so."

Draco woke up considerably. "She told you that?" He was elated AND perturbed! Why would she tell a young girl and not him!

"Yes," Marie confirmed, "but that's not all. She said she's four months pregnant, if that makes a difference." Marie knew it did, but would say no more. She knew that Draco would understand the significance of that statement. She threw her arms around Draco's middle, hugged him tightly and then looked up into his surprised expression. "I think Hermione needs us right now, Draco, the way Jeff and I needed you when our parents died. We need to take care of her and her baby, don't you agree? We need to love them as if they're part of our family, because that's what we all are now, a family. I love you, goodnight." She gave his midsection one last tight squeeze and then scampered off to bed.

Draco slid down the doorjamb and placed his head in his hands, the words from Marie bouncing around his sore brain. Four months pregnant meant that it couldn't be his, and it wasn't that wanker Goldstein's, which meant it had to be…Charles' baby.

Four months ago, Hermione and Charles went on their first date to Oliver Wood's wedding together. Charles talked endlessly about the date before it even happened. He thought he loved her _before _they dated, and as he lay dying he told Draco to take care of Hermione. Of course, Charles wouldn't have known that she was pregnant at the time.

Similarly, poor Granger thought the man had left her that morning without a word to her, never to be heard from again. She had no clue he was dead, and Draco had no clue how he was going to tell her. He had already persuaded Scarhead not to tell her, but NOW someone would have to tell her – because she was having Charles' baby.

A baby. Charles' baby. Not Draco's baby. Yet, Marie was right – they were all a family now and he had to take care of Hermione and her baby, but not because Charles told him to, and not because it was the right thing to do, and not because they needed him, but because he WANTED to and perhaps because he needed them more than they needed him.

Draco sighed before he stood up from the floor, shut the door, and climbed back into the bed. Rolling onto his side, he closed his eyes and thought that perhaps he would die from his head injury before she even came back into the room. Wouldn't that be bloody poetic?


	16. Chapter 16

All characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 16 – Sex and a Concussion (or should that be Sex and a Confession?)**

Hermione talked to Harry for over two hours. Around midnight she tiptoed up the stairs to check on Draco. Opening her door, she saw him lying on his side on her bed. The light from the full moon was shining from the French doors off the balcony and was bouncing off his blond hair. Standing by the bed, she reached out and stroked the fringe of bangs away from his face. She couldn't resist the urge to lean over and kiss his forehead.

Straightening up, she started to walk over to her bathroom to get ready for bed, when she felt Draco's hand snake around her wrist. "Where have you been?" he asked, moving to his back.

"How's the head?" she asked back, instead of answering.

"Hurts like hell," he supplied. Everything hurt like hell.

She smoothed his hair back and offered, "I'll get a headache potion for you while I'm in the bath getting ready for bed."

She didn't wait for his response. Leaving the bedroom, she went to the bathroom, leaving the doors between the two rooms opened slightly, not bothering to turn on the light. Letting the sleeves of her sweater drop from both arms, she felt the material float against her legs on its trek to the floor. Then she went still, her chest tight as a drum, her heart thrumming steadily as she felt a pair of hands go slowly around her waist. She didn't even hear him leave the bedroom and follow her to the bathroom.

Faint breath puffed against her cheek and neck as Draco pulled her against his chest. Fear grappled her being as she wondered if he could 'feel' her baby bump, but it was soon replaced by a stirring mix of want and desire that was brought on by his towering height and his warm muscled body, so strong behind her.

"Did you come in here for the headache potion?" she asked feebly.

"No, I came in here for you," he replied, his response like velvet against her neck, his lips moving slowly with each word against her sensitive skin. She tried to pull away from his body, but he was too strong and he pulled her back.

"Draco, your head…" she began.

"Is firmly attached to my body," he responded, pulling on her arm now, leading her to the bedroom. Once in the bedroom, he kept her facing away from him, tightened his hands around her waist again, pulled her against him, brushed her hair from her neck with his nose, and he kissed her ear, his tongue going out to swirl around the whorl and the lobe.

His right hand moved from her stomach up to her breasts, and she tried to take that moment to slip away, but he was too quick and he fastened his mouth on the juncture of her collarbone, his hands on her hips, moving her skirt upwards.

"Draco, doesn't your head still hurt?" she asked.

"Something else hurts, and it might have a head," he said vaguely, urging his hips against her backside, making her pulse beat rapidly. She wondered something – if they made love again, and the room was dark, would he be able to see she was pregnant? She wasn't very big yet, and she wanted him so very much.

His arms became tight bands around her as she thought of these things, turning her around to face him. Her hands went up to his shoulders and she said, "Draco, what about…?"

Before she could ask one more thing he said, "No talking, please. It hurts my head. Just make love to me. That'll make everything better, I swear." She pressed her lips together in amusement, excitement, and slight anticipation. She wasn't about to say another word. It was all up to him now.

Draco released his arms from her body (once he was certain that she wasn't going to escape) and he started to undo the long line of buttons on the front of her shirt. She looked down and followed his nimble fingers with her eyes, her heart thundering in her throat. He was quick and he had the buttons undone and the shirt hanging open in no time.

She was turned away from the scant light of the moon, but still, she looked down at her own body to see what he might be seeing. When she looked back up, he was looking at her face. He smiled at her, her resolve broke, and she felt like crying for some insane reason. He pushed her shirt from her shoulders and then shed his own just as quickly, leaving them both in a puddle on the floor.

She stiffened as he drew a finger down her chest, starting over her heart, between her cleavage and down the slight swell of her stomach. She felt mortified. He had to notice that she was pregnant! Why didn't he ask her a question about it? He placed his whole hand on her stomach, the width of it spanning the entire width. He bent low and kissed her above her navel, while his hands moved around her hips to the zipper at the back of her skirt.

Without preamble, it too fell to the floor.

She only had on her bra, knickers, stockings, and shoes. Unsteady on her feet, she walked away from him and sat on the chair by her dressing table. He unzipped his trousers and tossed them in the heap as she went.

Standing before her again, looming over her as she sat, hands on her shoulders, looking down at her with liquid grey eyes, he smiled and said, "You know, there's something about you, Granger, and as crazy as it sounds, I want you to take care of me. Like I said, crazy, huh?"

She laughed. Just a small exhaled breath that escaped her lips with a smile. He wanted HER to take care of him. Yes, it was crazy. Yet, she felt the same way. She wanted _him_ to take care of _her_. Hermione Granger had never wanted a man to take care of her before, yet she did now, and the man in question was the last man she would ever assume she would want to fill that role.

The night air was cool on her skin. She felt almost paralyzed by the sights and sounds of what was happening. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. His fingers moved lightly through the long strands of her hair and he sank to his knees in front of her, as if he were at worship before her. Fingers and hands moved from her hair, to her shoulders, under straps, moving straps downwards, off arms, toward the floor, her bra gone, her breasts bare to his eyes and hands.

He began lightly to caress everywhere there was a spare space of skin. He caressed her with his hands, hair, cheeks, eyelashes, and most of all his mouth. He moved slowly and deliberately. He stayed between her legs, with her still in the chair. A responsive groan began low in her chest and soon she was overwhelmed with the thought of what was about to occur and she leaned her weight against him and said, "Please." That's all she finally said. "Please."

His breathing was as forced and labored as hers was, but he fought hard to control it. He moved so that his chest pressed against the rising peaks of her breasts and he whispered in her ear, "You're so beautiful."

She shivered in response. She wanted to tell him right then and there that she loved him. After all, she had confessed that very thing to Harry earlier that night. Biting her lip, to keep from saying it before he said it to her, her legs began to tremble when his hands moved up and down her thighs, his thumbs close to her apex. He rolled down one stocking, removed one shoe with so much care and reverence that she thought she would expire from the want and need building inside of her. When he did the same with the other, she actually sagged against the back of the chair.

That's when she finally whispered, without planning to do so, "I think I might just love you."

He placed his thumb on her lower lip as soon as she said it. His left hand went to her neck, and he pulled her face down to his. His mouth covered hers in the sweetest kiss she could ever remember receiving. His tongue delved inside, stroking the sides and roof of her mouth. She returned his kiss with equal ardor, her hands clenching his shoulders for support.

Ending the kiss abruptly, he stood, pulled on her hand, and led her to the bed. There, they shared an equal measure of pleasure. Her breasts and nipples were sensitive, but she didn't have to tell him to take care, because he did anyway. His tongue, lips, and hands moved carefully over her entire body; he was gentle and loving. He kissed her belly all over, his arm going underneath her, his head on her midriff, and all he could think was 'this is my baby' no matter what.

Moving up her body, placing his body over hers, he entered her. He kissed her repeatedly and they came together in wonder and gratitude, and when it was through, he rolled to his side, bringing her with him.

And that was when he said it. "I confess that I just might love you, too."

Then the fear came. He was afraid. He was afraid of falling asleep. He was afraid of losing her. He was afraid for her to find out what happened to Charles, because she would. His hand went slowly down her side, to rest on her stomach.

Her head was tucked under his chin, her face resting on his chest. He looked down at her face and after watching her for a while, and ascertaining that she was sleeping, he said, "It's time for confessions, but like the coward that I've always been, I'll confess while you're sleeping, so you can't admonish me, and I can continue to keep my secrets. Here goes…I know you're pregnant, and I know who the father is. It's Charles Warrington the Third. I know you went out with him four months ago. You went to Oliver Wood's wedding with him. He told me all about it. He thought he might love you even before he went out with you, and at the time, I thought he was a sodding nutter, a rotting piece of scum who was crazy as they come."

His hands played in her hair as he concluded, "Now I know he was completely sane and on the mark. He had it right. How could someone not love you? Gor, I spent most of my life hating you. What a bastard I was. No more, Granger. No more. I also wish I was the father. By the way, I know that you think the children's father is a bloke by the name of Ian Ellington, but darling girl, Charles Warring and Ian Ellington are one and the same, and I don't know how I'm ever going to tell you that. How am I going to tell the children that?"

He kissed the top of her head and sighed. "For a man who's lived his life with secrets, and is used to telling lies, I find that I no longer want to be a party to either."

He stayed awake until the wee hours of the morning and only when dawn started to come over the horizon did he finally fall sleep.

And that was when Hermione Granger finally woke up.

* * *

_A/N - This chapter makes me want to say - HEE HEE HEE, for some reason_


	17. Chapter 17

All characters belong to JK Rowling

**Chapter 17– There has to be a Morning After, Because the Ship Sank**

The morning after she and Draco had made love for the second time, Hermione lay on her side with her hands under her face, the covers up to her chin. She looked carefully and closely at the sleeping man beside her and couldn't help but to smile at several memories from the night before: one being that he said he might love her, and two being that they made love again and it was better than the first time!

She was terribly tempted to wake him, but recalled the adage about 'not waking sleeping dragons'. Wait! Suddenly, she recalled that she was supposed to wake him several times during the course of the night because of his head injury.

Oh well. He must be okay. He had no problem 'performing' last night and he seemed to be in picture perfect health this morning. She lifted up the covers and stared at his nude body. Yes, everything seemed to be functioning normally. His flagpole was at 'full mast' as was per course for men his age first thing in the morning. She dropped the sheet and wondered if a man's 'erectile function' was related to his 'brain function', and then she immediately knew that it wasn't. Therefore, he could _still _have a nasty side effect from his concussion and _still _have an erection at the same time.

Damn. He could be suffering from the ill affects of last night's head injury and she would never know. She scooted closer and lifted one of his eyelids to check his pupils. He reached out with a Seeker's agility, grabbed her hand, and tumbled her to her back as fast as could be.

"Good morning, Granger," he said with a smile, looking down at her.

She laughed and said, "Good morning there, Malfoy."

"What are you doing to me?" he asked, raising one eyebrow in the air.

"I'm checking to make sure you're no longer suffering from a concussion from last night's head injury," she said innocently.

"By lifting the sheet and checking my snake?" he asked.

"Your snake?" She began to laugh, drawing her knees up to her stomach, pushing on his chest with her arms. "I lifted your eyelid, you prat. I wanted to make sure your pupils were equal and reactive."

"How would you know? You only looked at one pupil. Besides, I distinctly felt you lift the sheet first, my dear," he pointed out. "And I can assure you, that part of my anatomy is completely above equal and overactive." He moved so that he was mirroring her body – turned on his side with his head propped up on one hand.

She sat up, pulling the covers with her, and (self-consciously) placed the pillow that had been under his head over her stomach. "Do we need to talk about what happened last night?"

He sat up as well, and then innocently asked, "Which part of last night do you want to talk about? The concussion or my performance afterwards?"

She smiled.

He took the pillow from her lap, placed it behind his back and without looking at her, he said offhandedly, "Or perhaps you want to talk about your poor performance last night."

"MY WHAT?" she practically choked in outrage. "What are you driving at, Malfoy? My poor performance? I know I'm a bit rusty, but seriously! That's beyond rude!" She took the pillow from behind his back, hit him twice over the head with it, and then placed it back over her stomach.

"So then you think you WERE a good mediwitch, because I could give evidence to contradict that thought." He took the pillow that was on her stomach, because he was aware of exactly what she was hiding behind it, and hit her twice with it as she had hit him moments before. He stuffed it behind his back and then smiled ruefully at her.

"Oh, that poor performance," she laughed. "Well, you didn't expire. Your head's still attached. You don't seem to be suffering from lingering after effects."

"No thanks to Healer Granger," he remarked. He moved toward the middle of the bed, not mindful of his nudity, and he snaked his hand under the covers and pulled on her ankle until she was once again lying on her back. She squealed. Lumbering over her, he peered into her face and complained, "You were a terrible mediwitch! You didn't check on my head trauma even once and as you said, I could have expired during the night and you would never have known the difference. Thank goodness we did what we did, because it's the only thing that kept me awake," and then he tacked on, "barely."

She slapped his cheek, softer than she wanted to, but smiled up at him. "Seriously, Draco, if this is to continue, we have some serious things to discuss. I have something very important to tell you, but I want it to wait until after our trip to Hogwarts."

"And likewise, I have something serious to discuss with you after Hogwarts," he concurred. Looking down at her face, so fresh and sweet in the light of the morning, he knew he had many things to discuss with her, but the most important being that Charles was the children's father. Letting his nose skim her cheek, he started to kiss her lips when there was a knock at her door.

He stiffened beside her, and she stilled underneath him.

"Yes?" Hermione called out. There was no answer. Instead, there was the sound of someone scratching at her door. Hermione whispered to Draco, "It's Jeff! That's the sound he makes when he's at the door!" She sat upright and reached for her silk robe at the foot of her bed. "Give me a moment Jeff." Hermione pulled the covers up to her body with one hand, the robe in the others, as she kicked and pushed at Draco until he was unceremoniously pushed off the bed. He landed on the opposite side of the door. He remained on the floor, by the bed, naked, as the door started to open. He reached up to the bed and grabbed the pillow to throw over his lower body just as the door opened all the way, then he strained to listen.

"Oh, Jeff, good morning," Hermione said, fastening the belt of her robe across her middle when the door opened all the way. "May I do something for you this morning?"

Jeff pointed toward Draco's room. Hermione knew immediately that the young boy must have wondered where Draco was.

"Did you need Draco, is that it?" Hermione asked. She went to Jeff, placed an arm around his slender shoulders, and started to usher him out the door. Draco spied his trousers, shirt and other clothing pooled on the floor by the end of the bed, mingled with hers from last night. He turned to the side and reached inside his trousers for his wand.

Jeff wrote something in his notebook. Draco would never know what it was, because he grabbed his clothing and his wand, and Disapparated to his room. From there he slipped on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt and he opened his bedroom door. He saw Hermione and Jeff standing in the threshold of her doorway.

"Jeff, Hermione, was someone knocking on my door? I was in such a deep sleep that I wasn't sure if I heard someone or not," Draco fibbed with an overzealous, overly exaggerated, fake yawn.

Hermione turned Jeff toward Draco and said, "There, you see, Jeff, he was in there all along. He just didn't hear you." She walked Jeff the few steps toward Draco's room and said, "Jeff wants you to help him pack for Hogwarts. He doesn't know what he should take."

"Um…" Draco began, looking at Jeff, then Hermione. "We aren't going until tomorrow, right? But I would imagine he should take clothes, the basics, trousers, shirts, a jacket, boxers or briefs, his preference. Something to sleep in wouldn't hurt. His little notebook would be helpful."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Jeff looked just as perturbed. "No, Malfoy. I think he's wondering if he'll need anything else, oh, never mind. I'll help him pack." She turned back to Jeff and said, "Go downstairs and have Mrs. Jenkins make your breakfast, and after I shower and dress and have breakfast myself, I'll help you decide what to take."

Jeff smiled at her, frowned at Draco, and ran down the stairs.

Draco walked up to Hermione, pulled at the collar of her robe, tried to look at her cleavage, (which earned him a slap on his hand) and then he said, "What was I suppose to say? What's he worried about, anyway?"

"What isn't he worried about, Malfoy? That would be the easier question to answer. He's not like Marie; he's not like you or like me. He's an insecure kid, who worries about everything! I know it's a hard concept for you to understand. Perhaps I should have Harry come and talk to him today, instead of waiting until we're in Hogsmeade."

Draco pushed her against the wall, placed his hands beside her head and pouted, "NO! No Potters of any sort in this house, Granger. I must insist. He'll dirty something, of that I'm certain."

"Oh, poo!" she returned. "You have the sensitivity of a gnat."

"I can live with that," he parried. "Why's the kid packing now? We aren't leaving until tomorrow morning."

"Exactly! I've been packed for two days, and so has Marie," Hermione began, walking back into her bedroom, followed by Malfoy. "But Jeff kept putting it off, waiting for you to help him."

Draco plopped back on her bed, on his back, and asked, "You've been packed for a weekend trip for two days? Really?"

"I know, I know," she started, grabbing a pair of jeans and a shirt from her dresser. "I don't normally leave things until the last minute like that. I'm usually better prepared, but I've been distracted."

He laughed and sat up to watch her as she gathered the rest of her clothing. That wasn't what he meant, but he decided not to make fun of her.

She went into the bathroom and he started to follow, but the door was slammed solidly in his face. She started the shower but said loud enough for him to hear, "I had a lot to do to prepare for this trip. I arranged the Portkey, the tour of Hogwarts with Minerva, and the accommodations at the Inn. All you have to do pack your things."

"Accommodations?" he repeated. Placing both hands on the solid oak door of the bathroom, he asked loud enough for her to hear over the sounds of the shower, "How many rooms did you get?"

"Four."

"Damn," he said softly. "What Inn?" he asked louder over the sounds of the shower.

"The Boarshead Inn," she replied. After a few minutes the shower turned off and she opened the door a crack. Steam wafted out toward him. He tried to slip the door open wider, but she had her body behind it, holding it steady. "Why?" she quizzed.

"That's a dive," he complained. It wasn't, be he had a dastardly thought. "Whenever my parents used to come and visit me at Hogwarts, they always stayed at The Hounds Tooth Inn."

She rolled her eyes and said, "Why? Did they give special rates to Death Eaters?" She slammed the door shut.

He banged on it and said, "Out of line, Granger, and yes, they did, but that's beside the point. I'll change the accommodations to there, if you please." He started out of her bedroom when she opened her bathroom door again. She stuck her wet head and bare shoulders out of the door.

"Draco?"

He turned to look at her. "Are you naked?" he asked.

"I just had a shower!" she leveled.

"So is that a yes or a no?" he asked with a mischievous grin.

"I have a towel on, so it's a yes and a no," she came back. "Why are you changing where we're staying?"

He sat on the edge of her bed and dared her, "Come out here and talk."

"No." She slammed the door again.

"We had sex last night and you won't let me see you in a towel?" he asked. "Talk about being out of line!" He knew why she wouldn't let him see her naked in the full light of day, but still, he wanted to see if she would do it. And he really just wanted to see her naked, too.

She wiped condensation away from the mirror and said to herself, "Yes but it was dark when we made love last night and its light now." Then she looked down at her self in the towel. Letting the towel drop, she turned to look at her naked profile in the mirror.

A knock on the bathroom door made her jump and scream. "AAHH! Don't come in!" She picked up the towel quickly and wrapped it back around her.

"I wasn't coming in, but I thought you forgot about me. You didn't answer me," he accused. "Why could I see you naked last night when we had sex, and not today?" He leaned against the door to wait to see what she would say.

"Why are you changing our accommodations?" she asked from her side of the door, instead of answering his question.

"Fine, don't answer my question. Keep your secrets and I'll keep mine," Draco responded. He pushed away from the door and went to get his own shower.

Later that day, Hermione was in the dining room with a piece of parchment in front of her, and a Muggle pen in her hand. She was marking things off a list of some sort as Draco sauntered into the room.

"I Owled that awful Boarshead Inn and changed our rooms to the Hounds Tooth Inn."

"Good for you," she mumbled, crossing off another thing on her list. He sat beside her and pulled her list toward him.

He laughed. "You're making a list of things to do to get ready for a weekend trip? We're going to be gone two nights and three days, Granger!" He began to read the things on her list and chuckled more.

"It never hurts to be prepared," she moaned, grabbing the list.

"What did you cross off as I came in?" he wondered. He grabbed the list back and saw that she crossed off 'Accommodations'. He smiled to himself. He knew she would be somewhat surprised when she saw what he had planned for their 'accommodations.' To distract her, and to bother her some, (really, to raise her hackles) he grabbed her pen and wrote something on the bottom of her list.

She sighed and then read it silently. He wrote, _**'Have sex!'**_

She took her wand and removed the last thing he wrote and said, "We certainly will not be doing THAT! Besides, tell me why we would need to do THAT to get ready for a weekend trip to Hogsmeade!"

"Because," he began, taking her writing hand in his, throwing her pen across the room, and playing with her fingers, "as you mentioned earlier, you're out of practice, and who knows, my head injury from last night could still be causing all sorts of latent problems, which might not show for days."

"There will be no more of THAT until after we return," she huffed, pulling her hand from his.

"That's what you think. There'll be much more of THAT and maybe even a little bit of THIS," he teased, pushing her hair aside to nibble on her ear.

She looked toward the doorway, saw no one around, so she indulged him, because it felt so heavenly. After a few moments she pushed him away and said, "Malfoy, let's talk for a moment. There's something I want to know."

"Yes, I'll have sex with you again, Granger," he mocked.

She huffed and got up from her chair. "That wasn't my question, but I do want to expound on that subject for moment, though."

"Goody," he said, smiling and clapping his hands.

She couldn't help but laugh at an adult Draco Malfoy saying 'Goody'. "Do you mind not calling it 'Sex'?"

"Why? Do you want a code name for it, in case the kiddies hear? Shall we call it 'The Deed'? How about, 'The Act'? I don't mind if we keep calling it, 'That'."

She actually looked a bit downtrodden at his tomfoolery and she went to the other side of the table, picked up her pen from the floor and said, "Never mind. Call it whatever you want, but let's be mindful of the children."

Leaning over she grabbed her list from the center of the table and started from the room. He stood quickly and blocked the exit. "Wait, Granger," he insisted. "What do you wish to call it?"

"Making love," she said matter-of-factly. "You called it that last night before we, well, made love, but now you keep calling it sex."

"What's the difference? It's the same thing," he returned. His brows furrowed and he frowned a bit.

She felt embarrassed. She knew she had heard him say that he thought he 'just might love her, too', and she wouldn't have MADE LOVE with him if she hadn't been falling in love with him – and that was when she realized that she said she loved him _before_ they made love and he said it _afterwards_. Those were two very different things. **When** a man and woman said 'I love you' made all the difference in the world, especially in this case, because she meant it and he probably didn't.

She decided that this was her problem, not his. She was falling in love with the wrong sort of man again. Another man who would probably leave her when it was all said and done. When her job was over, their relationship would be over. At least she couldn't get pregnant again! At least she knew this now. At least she knew it before she made the mistake of telling him about her pregnancy. Now she wouldn't have to tell him.

She smiled and waved her hand in the air and said, "Goodness, you look so serious. I'm joking, but of course. Call it anything, anything at all. It's sex, just sex, nothing else. Sex, sex, sex. I have sex all the time, with all sorts of people. It means nothing, right? It's just sex. It's not as if we're in love, so we don't have to call it making love. Goodness, look at the time. I still have to help Jeff pack."

She continued to smile as she left the room, the smile plastered on her face and her heart securely in the bottom dregs of her feet because she felt like the biggest fool in the world.

And Draco continued to frown, not knowing what in the world he had done wrong.


	18. Chapter 18

All characters belong to JK Rowling

**Chapter 18 – Pack up All Your Cares and Woes, the Hogwarts Trip is Good to Go**

The rest of the day and into the night, Hermione tried to ignore Draco. It wasn't easy. He was rather like that random fly at a picnic that just wouldn't leave the food alone. He followed her from room to room, never really speaking to her, but trying (in vain) to get her to open up and speak to him.

Instead, she continued to ready the family for the trip to Hogwarts AND she continued to ignore the giant fly that kept buzzing around her body as if she were a giant piece of flypaper.

Because ignoring Draco Malfoy was all she could do without going berserk. What she really wanted to do was grab him by the shoulders, shake him hard and say, 'Listen, bucko, I'm four months pregnant, I love you, and I don't want to leave here after the trip to Hogwarts, even though my two months are up.'

Because they were, her two months were almost over and done. This Monday was August the 6th and she would have been teaching the children exactly two months, and although no one had yet said a word about her job being nearly completed, surely it weighed as heavily on the thoughts of Draco and the children as it did on her. This trip to Hogwarts was their swansong, in many ways.

That was why it was imperative that Hermione finally tell Draco the truth about her pregnancy this weekend.

The next morning Hermione stood in the middle of the foyer, suitcases and satchels around her feet, an anxious Jeff, an excited Marie, a fly named Draco Malfoy standing around her, and she finally realized that her impending departure was the one little thing that was the biggest thing bothering her. She didn't want to leave!

"Hermione?" Draco asked. He even waved his hand in front of her face. "Didn't you say that we were to meet the Portkey promptly at nine this morning?"

"What?" she asked in return, only to shake her head. "Oh, oh yes. The Portkey." She turned to the children. "The Department of Magical Transportation arranged this special Portkey for us to travel to Hogsmeade today."

Marie quickly asked, "Explain to me what a Portkey is again?"

"A Portkey is any inanimate object with a Portus spell placed upon it. A witch or wizard has to have special permission to cast a Portus spell on an object, so usually The Department of Magical Transportation will just provide you with one, instead of letting you make your own," Hermione explained.

Draco added, "They use common, old things, so that Muggles won't be any wiser."

"Yes," Hermione agreed, not looking up at Draco. Instead, she bent down to pick up her suitcase and satchel. "Our Portkey is an plastic water bottle, and its going to be found in the field near the main road, but beyond the wards protecting our, I mean, the house."

Draco tried to take her suitcase from her, balancing it with his own. She wouldn't relinquish it. She started out the door with the rest of them following. Draco could tell that she seemed distant and distracted, and he quickly noticed the fact that she stumbled over the phrase 'our house', replacing it with 'the house'.

The children swiftly ran ahead of the adults to try to find the abandoned 'water bottle' that was going to be used for the Portkey. Draco called out, "If you find it, don't touch it until we're all there!" Walking along with Hermione he said, "I'll take your luggage if you want."

"I can handle it," she returned, her gaze ahead of her.

He reached over, tried to take the handle and said, "But I don't mind."

She turned her body a fraction and chirped, "I have to learn to manage by myself."

He frowned at that statement, but let her carry her own suitcase. They were almost to the field; the children were far enough away, so he turned to her again. "Your door was locked last night." He observed that she had her bottom lip clamped down between her teeth as she often had done most of their lives when she was pensive or worried. He used to joke to his mates that she looked constipated when she did that, but in reality, he used to think she looked cute. Now he was concerned by that action. Forging on, he said, "I thought we'd come to a sort of common understanding, after the night before last, when we…"

She quickly interrupted, dropping her suitcase on the ground. Turning to him, she said, "Had sex. Yes I know. We had sex. Sex, Malfoy! You like to call it sex."

"Okay," he said steadily, eyes wide. "I was going to say, 'after we made love', but you interrupted me like a shrew," he bit back antagonistically. He picked up her dropped suitcase and walked ahead of her toward the children, who had found the Portkey.

She ambled toward them slower, biting the fourth fingernail of her left hand. She stared at them, watching them interact. Marie was laughing at something Draco just said…now Draco was ruffling Jeff's hair…now Jeff was pushing Draco, but the young boy was smiling.

In two short months, she had come to love these children. Marie was bright, inquisitive, manipulative (a Slytherin at heart), and protective of her brother. Though she might not be ready to start with other third year Hogwarts' students, Hermione had no doubt that given time, she would catch up with children her age, and then surpass them.

Marie was open with her emotions, and for the first two weeks that Hermione was at the house with her, the young girl cried herself to sleep almost every night. She never tried to hide her tears, and when Hermione would ask her what was wrong, she would say things like, "I miss my father," or "I miss my mum." Once she even said that she missed Draco, which made Hermione feel guilty for asking him to leave.

Sometimes Marie would comment on the fact that she missed her Muggle life and old friends. She was excited to start Hogwarts and anticipated making new friends, but was afraid of being thought of as different. Many long discussions were shared between Hermione and Marie, concerning how Hermione often felt different at school, and how scared she was when she first started school, a Muggle-born.

Marie admitted that she was afraid of starting at the beginning, where she would be older than the rest. She shared all of her hopes and fears with Hermione, Draco, and her little brother. Hermione loved this girl for the trait of being so open and honest. Hermione used to share that trait, and she envied that young girl for it.

And Hermione loved little Jeff as well. Small for eleven years old, he seemed to understand everything about magic and magical theory that Hermione taught him, even though he couldn't always express his opinions openly. He was quiet, but his silence was so loud sometimes that Hermione was astonished by the well of emotions and intelligence in the young boy.

He was a talented artist, even at his tender age, and he had a gift for words, writing poetry and intricate stories that made their well-known magical world pale in comparison. He was sensitive, loving, and his smile melted Hermione's heart every time she saw it. She only caught him crying once. He was hiding behind a tree, deep in the woods behind the house. Hermione had to perform a locating spell to find him, and when she did, the sight before her broke her heart.

He was huddled against an old, gnarled tree, his skinny arms wrapped around his skinny legs, his black hair in disarray around his head, his face hidden. She approached him slowly and when he lifted his face to hers, tear tracks streaked down his cheeks, but not a single sound emitted from him – no sobs, no wails, no hiccups or moans. There were sniffles, but that was it.

When he saw Hermione, he wiped his face with the back of his hands, leaving dirt smudges on his wet cheeks to replace the tearstains. Hermione sat down beside him, pulled him into her lap, and held him tightly. She rocked him back and forth, in silence, no words passing between either of them. She couldn't ask him what was wrong, because she knew he couldn't answer. Neither did she offer words of encouragement, because she didn't know what was wrong, although she could well imagine. Therefore, she merely held him. The feel of 'a mother's arms' around him was probably what he needed. She held him until he fell asleep, then she levitated his body back to the house, up the stairs, to his bed.

His sister slept on the floor of his room that night.

Hermione slept out in the hall.

Then there was Draco Malfoy. He was such a contradiction from the spoiled boy she had grown up not liking. She wouldn't dwell on him. If she did, she would surely cry.

"My stars," Hermione squeaked quietly, still watching the three interact before her. "How am I going to leave them behind?" She looked down at her stomach, camouflaged behind a wrap-around sweater, and her pain was so palpable that she stopped walking and turned with her back to the rest so she didn't have to look at the sight before her any longer.

Draco walked up behind her and touched her shoulder. "Are you ready to go?"

Turning, she threw her arms around him and said, "No, I'm not. I don't want to go, Draco."

Patting her back, he whispered for only her to hear, "Are we talking about more than the trip here? I get a feeling that we are."

She nodded. His arms wrapped around her tighter, like lead bands. She hid her face in his chest. Just as she comforted Jeff that day in the woods, and Marie every night for the first two weeks, she allowed Draco to comfort her.

"Then stay, Granger," he murmured, turning them slightly so he could spy the children. "Your two months are over on Monday, the day after we return from Hogwarts, but none of us want you to go." Both children were staring at them intently. They were listening and nodding in agreement.

Quietly, for only her to hear, Draco said, "I know you're pregnant, Hermione." She stiffened immediately in his arms, although he couldn't see her face, he felt her intake of breath, and heard her gasp. Holding her so closely that he STILL couldn't see her face, he added, "You don't have to talk about it to me yet, but I know. Moreover, do you want to know what else I know? I also know it doesn't matter to me and that I still want you to stay with me, and with the children. I'm not a good man, or a thoughtful man, or even a sensitive type of bloke, so I can't think of what else to say to convince you.

"I have shortcomings aplenty, and I know I said something the other day to upset you, and I'm sorry, but hell, Granger, that's bound to happen more times than not. Nevertheless, perhaps this will make up for it."

He moved his hands from around her waist up to her face, moving her a fraction away from him in the process. Lifting her face toward his, he placed his lips over hers, kissing her softly. Draco whispered, "Stay with me. I love you, Granger. You're a royal pain in the arse, and your preggers' hormones are bound to be the death of me, in the sense that you'll probably kill me in my sleep some night soon, or even in the bright light of day, but stay with me, and with them, with us, and be a family. We all need each other."

Her expression was one of true and utter shock! He knew she was pregnant, and he wanted her to stay! She didn't have to hide it any longer! She never had to hide it! And he loved her, the stupid fool! With his hands still cupping her face, a strange warmth traveled from her cheeks to her shoulders, then to her belly, and she smiled at him and placed her hands on his wrists.

"There are still some things you don't know, and you have to be sure about this, Draco, because I might really kill you, you know?" she said passively.

"Just make sure there are no witnesses when you do," he joked. Then he leaned forward, not caring if the children saw, because he was sick of hiding (and he got him and Hermione a room to share at The Hounds Tooth Inn anyway), he kissed her again, and this time there was nothing sweet about it. It was a long, wet, warm and passionate kiss, which tapped into something purely innately and completely woman in her. Instead of warmth this time, she felt lightness, as if a burden was lifted from her. It was as if he had removed more than her suitcase from her hand and her satchel from her shoulder. He had lifted a giant weight of guilt, shame and regret, as well as dread from her.

He loved her, he knew she was pregnant, and she didn't have to leave. What could possibly go wrong now?

* * *

_A/N - Short chapter, I know, but there will be another one on Thursday! And...don't get too flustered, but it will feature...hold onto your socks...Lucius Malfoy!_


	19. Chapter 19

all characters belong to JKR

**Chapter 19 – A Double Room will do For Two, but do you Want the Trouble, Too? (Say that Three Times Fast)**

Walking into the Hounds Tooth Inn with his new family, Draco told Hermione and the children to wait for him in the quaint, old-world-charm lobby, while he checked them into their rooms. "Just leave your things here, and I'll have someone take them up to the rooms."

"Shouldn't we take the things upstairs ourselves? Shouldn't we rest first or something?" Hermione asked.

"Rest? Why? We just got here. I thought we could show the children around the village a bit, before they have to meet McGonagall for that testing you told me about," Draco expounded. Truthfully, he didn't want Hermione to know yet that he had gotten them a double room, even though they had just had a nice little 'love' moment. This was still Hermione Granger, for cripes sakes.

Hermione looked at her watch. "True, we do have to meet with the Headmistress at one o'clock," she agreed. "It's only twenty after nine now, so that still gives us plenty of time to look around the town this morning, and tomorrow we'll have most of the day for the tour of Hogwarts, and we might be able to take the Portkey to Diagon Alley."

Draco quickly, quietly, and without fanfare, checked them into their rooms, giving a bellhop an extra ten galleons to take all their luggage up for them. Marie and Jeff walked outside to wait on the adults, while Hermione sat down in a chair in the lobby to wait for Draco. Hermione had just opened her purse when she heard a strangely familiar voice say from the chair next to hers. "Hello, Miss Granger, imagine seeing you here."

Hermione lifted her head slowly with a smile on her face and a 'hello' at the ready, until, that was, she saw who had just greeted her. She sighed openly, snapped her purse closed, stood up and asked, "What are you doing here?"

"One might ask you the same," the person said in return.

"Does Draco know you're here?" she quizzed.

The man smiled, stood beside her and said, "I rather doubt that. I don't usually answer to him, or recount my whereabouts to Draco Malfoy."

"Humph!" she huffed, folding her arms in front of her. "Malfoy!" she called. Draco was still giving instruction to the front desk, so without turning toward Hermione or her call of 'Malfoy!' he held up a finger to silence her, in anticipation that she should, 'wait a moment'.

The man laughed and said, "Oh, no he didn't, did he? How rude. Surely, you aren't going to let him get away with raising a finger to you like that, are you? I've seen people do that gesture to their dogs to get them to be quiet."

"What do you wish for me to do to him, castrate him? Because I think people do that to their dogs as well, but we're in a public place!" Hermione snapped at the man.

He drawled, "But that didn't keep you from shouting out his name, did it?"

She almost growled, but kept her growl internal, then turned back to watch as Draco placed suitcase upon suitcase in a young man's arms. Deciding she would let him find out that the other man was here on his own, she walked outside, without a goodbye to the other man, and without a backwards glance to Malfoy, to join the children.

"I would remark to her rudeness, but it was expected," the man said to himself.

Draco turned toward the lobby, clapping his hands together once, fully expecting to see Hermione and the children. He said, "Right, so what shall we do first?" Instead of seeing the people he expected to see, he saw a familiar man standing before him.

Then he did something that was very true to his character, but which would still have embarrassed him if Hermione had been waiting for him in the lobby. He saw the man in front of him and in his shock, he screamed.

Like a little girl.

"AHH!" Draco screamed, recoiling slightly, hunching his shoulders, taking several steps backwards. "What, what are you doing here?"

"Surprise," the man said without emotion, holding his hands up in the air. "Are you happy to see me?"

"Not in the least," Draco said sincerely. The man frowned, and Draco explained, "I mean, I'm shocked, that's all, Father." He reached out his hand and offered it to his father to shake.

Lucius Malfoy shook his son's hand, hard, then dropped it before asking, "Were those the children?"

"I'm not certain to whom you're referring." Draco looked all around the empty lobby, still didn't see anyone, and said, "Oh no, what did you do to them? Where's Granger?"

"I killed them all, Draco," his father said with a perfectly straight face, though he was being sarcastic.

Draco frowned with his eyebrows only, then he tried to smile, and he said, "You could of at least let the little one live. He didn't take up much space." Draco walked toward the doors, opened one, saw Hermione and the children looking in a shop window and he laughed and said, "Well good, you let them all live after all. Jolly good show, Father."

"Be serious, Draco," his father warned. "Why is Miss Granger with you?"

"Why are you here?" Draco asked back.

"I will not be distracted by your little ploy of answering questions by asking questions, Draco Malfoy. I taught you that," he leveled to his son.

"Yes, sir," Draco smirked. He sat down in the chair that Hermione abandoned and said, "I don't know if you really saw them or not, but yes, the girl is Marie, she's thirteen, and the boy's Jeffrey, though he likes to be called Jeff, and he's eleven."

"He's small for eleven," his father remarked, sitting beside him.

"Yes, small, but very bright, and Marie's a smart girl as well." Draco nodded.

"Miss Granger is teaching them well?" his father asked.

"No, she's teaching them awful," he said, laughing. Lucius Malfoy didn't smile. He crossed his legs and gave his son a disappointed look, so Draco ended with, "Sorry, Father, yes, she's doing a wonderful job, as if there was any doubt."

"What sort of names are Marie and Jeff?" Lucius asked, looking at the toe of his pointed, dragon-hide boot.

"I know, I think they're strange names too, but their mother and father lived as Muggles, hence the strange names, so what can you expect?" Draco shrugged. Abruptly, Draco drew in a gasping breath, contemplating of a horrifying thought. "You're not staying here, are you?"

"Of course I am," Lucius smiled. "Your mother told me all about these urchins and since for all intents and purposes you have safekeeping of these waifs now, I thought I'd check them out for myself."

Draco had a worried look on his face. He leaned forward and asked again, "Yes, but you aren't staying HERE, are you, as in, this Inn?" He pointed at the floor.

"Where else would I stay?" Lucius looked at his hands, and then pulled his cuffs. "They still give a special Death Eater rate here, you know?"

"Yes, I know," Draco mumbled, leaning back in his seat. "Well, I have to go." He stood quickly and pointed toward the door. "The children are supposed to meet McGonagall at Hogwarts at ten this morning and I shall hate to be late meeting with the dear old woman."

"Really?" His father stood, too. "Miss Granger mentioned something about their testing not being until this afternoon, I believe."

Draco almost snarled. "How long were you listening?"

"When will you learn not to lie to your father?" Lucius asked back, instead of answering.

"And everyone wonders where I got the habit of asking questions as a way of answering questions," he laughed. "Seriously, Father, don't interfere with things. I know you don't approve of my guardianship of the children, and I'm going to tell you something else that will cause your hair to turn white…oh, yes, it's too late for that, it's already white." Draco chuckled at his own joke, while his father looked less than amused.

He continued, "These are my children now, and nothing you can do or say will change that, ever. As you know, the children belonged to Charles Warrington, and he was my best mate in the world, but they don't know him by his magical name, and it's up to me to tell them about him, which I will. Furthermore, I love Hermione Granger, and she's pregnant."

Draco hadn't intended to tell his father that part yet, but he felt it best to get it all out at once. By the hardened expression on Lucius Malfoy's face, he could tell it was a mistake the moment he said it, so he did something that his father had just warned him not to do. He lied to the old man. "And it's my baby, Father, so you will treat her with the respect that she deserves. In short, I think you should leave."

Draco stood and started toward the door.

Lucius Malfoy was beside his son before the younger man knew it. Lucius grabbed Draco's arm and said, "Now you listen, Son. I told you not to lie to me. I know she's pregnant. Let's just say that a certain Dr. Goldstein already told me that, and he also told me who the father was."

"That fucking son of a bitch," Draco barked with his hands in fists at his sides.

Lucius smiled a menacing smile and offered, "I have to say I agree with that assessment."

"Listen, I don't care, to me, that baby is every bit my baby, just as Marie and Jeff are my children now! Anthony Goldstein is just trying to cause trouble, because the better man won!" Draco hissed.

"While I don't doubt that, nor do I doubt that he did indeed have ulterior motives for telling me about the woman's pregnancy, **and** for informing me that you and the children were going to be here this weekend, I think he honestly thought I could find the man for him," Lucius explained, placing his hand on Draco's arm. "He thinks Charles Warrington is still alive, which makes me wonder, how many other people believe that as well?"

Draco shook his head. "Potter knows he's dead, as does the Ministry, of course. I have reasons for not wanting other people in the magical community to know this yet, and the Ministry agrees with me."

"And you will tell me these reasons," Lucius insisted.

"Father, I think I might be in some trouble," Draco admitted. "But I can't explain everything right now. I do intend to take this weekend to tell Hermione and the children everything about Charles, I promise."

"I could care less," Lucius admitted.

"Fine! Be that way! I don't know why I expected anything different!" Draco peeked back out the doors, spied Hermione, and the children outside of Honeydukes, and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Let me finish, Son," Lucius said quietly, pulling on his son's arm to pull him back inside. "I meant that I could care less that Charles Warrington went around with another name when he pretended to be a Muggle. That was his business. I do, however, care about my only son, and I'm here for you if you need me. Allow me to meet the children at least."

Draco looked outside once more, very quickly, then relayed, "I don't know what Hermione's going to do to you once she finds out that you're here."

"I don't know either, but I know that she threatened to castrate _you_ when she found out I was here." Lucius raised one eyebrow and held his cane up in the air. Draco looked astonished. He didn't know that Hermione had already seen his father! He also didn't like the sound of that in the least. "Oh, come now, Son, I'm sure she wouldn't really do it, at least, as she said, not in public." Lucius laughed and walked out the Inn's doors and headed straight toward Hermione and the children, who were still standing in front of Honeydukes.

Draco looked down at his crotch. He would hate to be castrated. That would rather ruin the reason he needed that double room, wouldn't it?

* * *

_A/N - I would rather say that it would, wouldn't you?_


	20. Chapter 20

All characters belong to JK Rowling

**Chapter 20 – Avoidance and Making Love are Synonyms if Your Name is Draco Malfoy**

Draco ran to catch up with his father before Lucius could catch up with Hermione, Jeff and Marie.

"Father," Draco warned, pulling on the older man's arm to force him to stop walking. "Please, go back to the Manor. This weekend is fraught with enough stress as it is."

Lucius glared at his son and said, "Are you comparing me to stress, Draco Abraxas Malfoy?"

"Of course I am," Draco waned.

Lucius turned back toward the small group who were suddenly watching the two Malfoy men and he started walking back toward them, mumbling under his breath two words. "Stress indeed."

"Is that Draco's Father?" Marie asked Hermione. Before an answer could leave Hermione's mouth, Lucius Malfoy stood before the children. He took the end of his serpent head cane, which housed his wand, and placed the sterling silver serpent head under Jeff's chin, pointing it upwards.

"Are you the boy?" he asked.

Hermione frowned. Draco winced. Marie knocked the cane away from her brother's chin and answered for him by saying, "Yes, he's the boy, and he has a name. It's Jeff. Are you the father?" She positioned a protective arm around Jeff, placing her body partially between Jeff and the older wizard.

Jeff looked from Marie's face to Lucius' face and he smiled. Lucius frowned more and said, "I would say that such insolence must have been learned by your Muggle-born teacher, but it also might have been inherited by your Muggle mother. Your father was a proud pureblood, and he had much better manners."

"Father!" Draco snapped.

Lucius acted as if he didn't hear his son's condemnation, or warning. He wasn't going to tell the children their father's real name, and he assumed they already knew he was a pureblooded wizard, so he saw no harm in his statement. He held up a hand toward Draco and said to Marie, "Furthermore, you must be the girl."

"Obviously," Marie said insolently.

Hermione smiled with satisfaction from behind Lucius, who turned to face her. "One would think you birthed this one, instead of merely taught her for two months, Miss Granger."

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. I'll consider that a compliment," Hermione leveled. "But you do know, you've not been very polite to her, either." Hermione walked between the older man and Marie, who stood only a hairsbreadth from each other, and she formally introduced them. "Marie Ellington, Jeff Ellington, this man is Lucius Malfoy, and he's Draco's elderly father."

"Elderly?" Lucius contradicted, his gaze going to Hermione. She shrugged and walked over toward Draco.

Lucius held out a hand toward Marie and said, "Charmed, I'm sure."

Marie looked at Lucius' hand wearily, and then she looked at Draco's face. Out of respect for Draco, and only for that reason, she shook the older man's hand and said, "It's nice to meet you, Sir. So, you knew our father?"

Lucius dropped Marie's hand to take Jeff's small hand in his, as the boy held it out for a greeting. As he shook Jeff's hand, he looked back at his son. He didn't know how to answer Marie's question, but before he could, Draco said, "Of course he knew him, Marie. You knew your dad and I were old friends, so it stands to reason that my father knew your dad."

Lucius inclined his head toward the candy store and said, "Who wants to visit this store here and get some sweets?" He looked down at Jeff and asked, "Do you, boy?"

Jeff smiled and nodded.

"No, Jeff," Marie offered, turning her gaze toward Lucius. "Hermione said we could visit it later."

Lucius gave off a less than gracious laugh and said, "I hate to break this to you, Miss Marie, but Hermione Granger is not the boss of me, nor is she the boss of you. She merely thinks she's the boss of the world. It comes from having a hero complex, which comes from being best friends with the very person who is the epitome of the word."

Hermione pulled out her wand, but Draco pushed it back in her pocket. Jeff wrote on his little notebook, _**"What's a hero complex?**_**"** and showed it to Marie. His sister shrugged and said, "I don't even know what 'epitome' means."

"What's that about?" Lucius asked, pointing at her brother's notebook and pen.

"My brother can't talk," Marie explained.

"Is he an imbecile," Lucius inquired.

Marie looked indignant at that comment and placed her hands on her hips as a result. Hermione pulled her wand completely out of her pocket this time, but Draco pulled Hermione away from the small crowd by the arm, ushering her partway down the sidewalk, away from the older man and the two children.

"Wait a moment," Draco whispered to Hermione, once he had her away from the fray. "If the children are going to come to school here in the fall, they have to learn to fight their own battles."

"Yes, but not against an ignorant former Death Eater!" Hermione whispered back.

"You fought against many a Death Eater when you were their ages," he reminded her. "Anyway, I'm sure my mother's already told my father all about Jeff's inability to speak. He merely wants to see what Marie will say or do. Give them a moment."

Back by Honeydukes' display window, Lucius had just asked Marie if her brother was an imbecile, and she gave him her best haughty look. She saw Hermione pull out her wand. She was counting on their tutor to curse the older ex-Death Eater, but Draco pulled her away.

Marie would have to defend her brother instead, which she was prepared to do. A retort was on her tongue and at the ready, when as an alternative, Jeff wrote something hurriedly in his small notebook, and then he pulled on the older man's sleeve to get his attention.

Lucius took the small notebook from the boy's hand, read the scribbled note, tore the page from the notebook, balled it in his fist, and looked at the boy. He nodded and said, "Duly noted, Master Jeffrey. I shall refrain from doing that again. Now, shall we go on to Honeydukes? I take it children still like sweets, don't they? Draco shall pay." He opened the door and the bell chimed overhead. Jeff ran inside, excited by the display in the window.

Marie asked, "What did he write?" She looked up at Lucius. He handed her the balled up piece of paper. The note Jeff wrote said: _**"Please don't be mean to my sister, or you'll make me angry." **_

Marie was shocked. Her brother was defending her in his own way. She smoothed the wrinkles from the note and placed it in her pocket, smiled at the older man and said, "I think you should remember that warning, Mr. Malfoy."

"Oh, I shall, Miss Marie," he considered. "I also shall call a truce with you."

"Very good," she said with a smile. "And I especially like sweets, and I think that you'll pay." She ran inside after her brother.

Lucius walked in after the children and said, mostly to himself, "No, I shalln't pay, but someone will, I'll make sure of that." His warning was left dangling in the air for no one to hear as he walked inside after the children.

Outside, Hermione was still trying to wrestle her wand from Draco, but to no avail, so finally she gave up and said, "He's taken them into Honeydukes, Draco Malfoy! He's going to get them all sugared up on sweets and they'll do poorly on their testing! That's probably his evil plan!"

"Oh, bull shite," Draco said, swishing his hand in front of her face. She pushed his hand away, but he captured her hand in his.

He sat on the windowsill and played with her hand, still fascinated with the feel of it in his. "Why is he here, Malfoy?" she almost moaned. "We were going to have such a nice weekend, too."

"We still will, I promise," he contended.

With a long-winded sigh, she sat beside him. There was no reason to fret over things she couldn't change. Glancing at their entwined hands, she remarked, "Please don't tell him I'm pregnant."

He tensed, and she felt it. Pulling her hand from his, she pushed away from the window and said, "You already told him, didn't you?"

"No, Goldstein told him," Draco replied honestly.

Hermione felt stung by that response. "Why would Anthony tell your father about my pregnancy?" She wrapped her arms around her waist.

"He wanted my father to help him find the baby's father."

Hermione stilled by that remark. Expecting him to say more, she waited. When nothing else came she finally asked, "Did Anthony tell your father who my baby's father was?"

"Yes," Draco responded quietly.

Hermione stared at him in near shock. She couldn't have been more surprised if Draco had slapped her. It almost felt as if he had. There was one more question to ask him, but she was hesitant. Turning to look inside the window, placing her hand on the cool, smooth glass, but still silent, unsure what to say, she finally stammered, "Did your father tell you what Anthony revealed to him?"

Draco could be truthful again, and relieve her worry, or he could tell her that he knew it was Charles, and be done with the charade. Standing behind her, his body touching hers, acting as a support, he caught her reflection in the glass and said, "My father didn't tell me his name, no. Do you wish to tell me?"

"Not yet. Soon. This weekend, but not yet, not right now." She studied him in the glass, his face impassive, and his reflection not showing any sort of emotion at all. She couldn't tell if he was lying or telling the truth. He looked utterly indifferent. She tried to gauge his expression, and couldn't tell a thing from the glass, so she turned to face him.

Staring at him, face-to-face, she said, "Let's go back to the room, and I'll tell you everything, Draco. I will."

Draco looked past her, into the window of the shop, saw his father and the children, and caught his father's eye. He waved to his father and then took Hermione's elbow, then ushered her back to the Inn. He didn't want her to tell him, not yet, but he didn't know what he could do to stop her.

Suddenly, it seemed imperative to get her back to the Inn. She wanted to tell him the truth…a truth he already knew. Walking into the Hounds Tooth Inn, past the front desk, up the stairs, toward the best room at the end of the hallway, he used his wand to open the door. The suite was large, but it felt small suddenly, and he felt insignificant, and as if he were suffocating being alone with her.

Because if she told him HER truth, did that mean he had to reveal his? Because he wasn't ready. He wasn't.

Looking around the room, she noticed that both hers and his luggage were beside the bed, which had a large four-poster, canopy with green and silver bedding, a large stone fireplace, a chaise lounge, and a bathroom off to the side.

"Is this your room or mine?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, nervously, moving to the fireplace, to start a fire with his wand, though the room already felt warm to him.

"Which is it?" she asked, moving closer to him, looking at the suitcases again.

He turned to her and said, "It's our room."

"Draco," she said, his name hanging alone in the air for some time before she continued with, "did they not have enough rooms?"

"Hermione," he rejoined, "think about that for a moment."

She did. "Draco!" she repeated. "You thought we would share a room! The children are here with us! Where are their rooms?"

"Down the hall," he supplied.

"Is your father staying here?" she had the forethought to ask.

"Why would you ask that?" he asked to keep from answering.

Tapping her toe on the hardwood floor, she glared at him and counted to ten in her mind before she asked again, "Draco Malfoy, is your father staring at this Inn, or is he leaving after today?"

"They give special rates," he said in a low voice. He sunk down on the side of the bed, hanging his head. "I can see if they have another room."

"Good, because I will not sleep in a room with you," she argued. "We are not at that point in our relationship."

"At what point do you share a room with a chap?" Draco snapped, a bit angry. He stood up and said, "After you sleep with him three times, instead of just two?"

She sucked in a breath, shocked. And to think, she was about to tell him about her baby's father. She was going to tell him that she was pregnant with Charles Warrington's baby, after going out on a date with him only once…and here she was, acting a prude, refusing to share a room with him after sleeping with him twice.

"Something's wrong with me," she realized. She sat down on the edge of the chaise lounge and hung her head. "I think my moral code is a bit tarnished. I'm not sure I live what I preach."

"No, I was bang out of line, Granger," Draco apologized. "I'll go down to the desk and get me another room, and you can have this one, and then I'll come back up here and we'll have our long talk about the baby's father."

He knelt in front of her and said, "Your nerves are fragile and frayed, that's all, love. I understand that. Seeing my father isn't helping things. Let's take everything one step at a time." He patted her knee and started to rise, but she placed her hand on his shoulder and kept him in place.

"Wait a minute, how did you know I was pregnant? You know, earlier, at the Portkey, how did you know?"

"What?" he asked, stalling. She was just too insightful and smart, damn her!

"Draco, how did you know I was pregnant? I under took great pains to hide it."

He remained quiet for so long that she finally let out an exasperated breath, gave him a subdued look and muttered, "So help me, you've better answer my question. How did you, Draco Malfoy, know I was pregnant? Did Marie tell you?"

He could lie and tell her that, but he didn't want to involve Marie. "I'm the one that overheard you tell Goldstein," he revealed, moving so he was on both knees, between her legs, on the floor.

Her heart was beating so fast she felt as if it might explode out of her chest. "You overheard me?" She wondered if he heard EVERYTHING?

"Yes," he said in a low voice. "Although I didn't hear who the father was. I was so shocked when I heard you tell him that you were pregnant that I fell away from the window, over the footstool, and hit my head on the leg of the chair. At first I thought that I might be the father." He took her hands in both of his again. His gaze fell over her face, which was devoid of colour. Pale and almost lifeless, she didn't move. She seemed frozen in place, so he forged onward.

"Marie lied for me, and then later that night, before we made love, she came to me and told me that you revealed to me that you were pregnant, but that you were four months along. That's when I knew it couldn't be mine, because we made love, the first time, two months ago, not four months ago, didn't we?"

He leaned closer, rested her hands back on her lap, but keeping one of his hands on top of hers, he moved his other hand gently down her hair, starting at the crown, past her shoulder. Then he cupped her cheek and smiled at her.

"But as I said, it doesn't matter, because I want us to be a family."

"The father of the baby doesn't even know I'm pregnant," she revealed with a hitch in her voice. His grey eyes held hers and it unsettled her that he was being so kind, so sweet, so sensitive. This wasn't the Draco Malfoy that she knew all her life. He urged her face up with the same hand that was still on her cheek and kissed her mouth slowly.

His lips, velvet and soft, slid against hers. "Does it matter?" he asked, laying his head in her lap after he kissed her.

"Does what matter?" She stroked his hair.

"Telling the father?" He turned his head slightly, so that her hand was now cupping his cheek. He wanted her to say 'no' it didn't matter.

"I don't know, I guess not," she insisted softly. She pulled his face up to hers. "I don't think he'll care, because he left me without even a goodbye. Malfoy, I slept with him only once, after one date, and he left me in the morning without a goodbye, and he never called or Owled me, or tried to contact me again. I don't know what to do or think. He still has a right to know about this child though, don't you think? Anthony thinks he does."

Draco pulled her down to the floor with him, so that she was sitting almost on his lap, and he said, "Anthony's a ponce and a prat, and there are many reasons why someone wouldn't contact a person again, Granger. It might not have anything to do with you."

"Do you think less of me, that I slept with him after one date?" she asked, moving slightly so she was next to him, instead of on his legs. She slid her arms around his waist.

He smiled slyly and said, "The only thing that could make me think less of you is if you don't let us share a room. Then, I would think you were mad, love. Stark, raving, mad."

"I'm suffering from some sort of madness," she joked. "I think it's called 'Dracoitis,' and I hope its not catching, because it's probably fatal."

He laughed, amused, and brushed his hands up and down her back. "It's not fatal, because I've had it for years. You'll live, but you need to seek immediate treatment for it. The only treatment is to make love immediately." He covered her lips with his again, and slid his tongue inside to meet her warm breath and soft mouth. His hand moved from her waist up to her neck, around to her throat, and she relaxed next to him.

Reality faded away, and nothing was real but being in his arms, on the floor of the suite here at the Inn.

She forgot that she came up to the room to tell him who the father of the baby was. She forgot that Lucius Malfoy was left to explore Hogsmeade, alone, with the children. She forgot that Draco didn't seem upset or surprised that she was pregnant, or that she had slept with a man after only one date. She forgot everything, but the feel of his lips on hers, his hand on her body, his breathing, his whispered endearments…him. Yes, she forgot everything else, but him.

But Draco didn't forget. He was stalling. He didn't want her to confess, not yet, because he didn't want to confess his secrets, not yet. He already knew exactly when and how he was going to confess this weekend, it wasn't going to be today, and it wasn't going to be right now. If he could ease her pain, and make her forget her urgency to be honest, AND make love to her, then he considered himself a lucky man indeed.


	21. Chapter 21

All characters belong to JK Rowling

**Chapter 21 – Everything Looks Better if You Squint**

After buying too many sweets for the children, and charging them to Draco's room, Lucius Malfoy escorted them outside.

"Where did Hermione and Draco go?" Marie asked.

"I think they went back to the Inn," Lucius announced. "I'll show you around the town, and then I'm sure they'll meet back with us before your appointment at the school."

Marie shrugged and said, "Fine by me." Looking at her brother, who was eating another piece of candy, she asked, "Where do you want to go next, Jeff?"

Tucking his bag of sweets into his backpack, he looked up and then down the street. Then he looked across the street. Finally, his gaze rested on a store at the corner of the crosswalk, on the opposite side of the road. He pointed at that store, a smile instantly gracing his dark, good looks.

Marie squinted her eyes toward his destination and asked, "What sort of store is that?"

"It's a Quidditch store," Lucius announced. Looking down at the children, he said in an arrogant manner, "You probably know nothing about Quidditch, do you?"

Marie laughed, as Jeff smiled quietly. "Of course we do. Though he rarely told us anything else about magic, our dad couldn't keep that from us, because he played once a month with a few of his Wizard friends. Sometimes Draco played with them. That's how we first met Draco. When we stayed with our dad on the weekends, he would take us to watch his matches occasionally. Our mother was so angry when she found out he took us the last time that she refused to let him see us for three months."

As Marie spoke to Lucius, Jeff scribbled something on his notebook and showed it to Lucius, who answered, "Yes, you're correct, your father played when he was in school. He was on the Slytherin team with Draco, although he was older than Draco was."

Marie's eyes grew wide as saucers and she asked, "Our father was a Slytherin?"

"Of course," Lucius returned. Without another word, he started across the cobblestone street, taking a hold of the back of Jeff's sweater with one hand. He looked back at Marie and barked, "Come along, Miss Marie."

Once they were in front of the Quidditch store, Marie said, "Our father never, ever spoke of his time at Hogwarts. I don't think he thought our mother would allow us to come to school here."

"Hasn't Draco explained it to you?" Lucius almost growled.

"Hermione's explained all about Hogwarts to us," Marie answered. "And we've read _Hogwarts, a History_, but no one's told us about our father's time at school, or which house he was in, or anything."

That statement outraged Lucius. His son was remiss in his handling of these children. "Well, your father was in Slytherin. He was a pureblood. Did Miss Granger explain to you what a pureblood is?"

The children both nodded. Jeff wrote down, "_**Hermione is a Muggle-born."**_

Lucius rolled his eyes. "Some people call her that."

"It's not nice to call her that other word. Draco told us about it. Mudblood, that is," Marie said, whispering the last part. Jeff's eyes grew wide when Marie said it.

Lucius looked almost bored and answered, "It's not that bad of a word. In any case, you and your brother are half bloods, which can't be helped."

"I don't mind being a half blood," Marie quipped.

"You wouldn't," Lucius snapped back.

"Were you a Death Eater?" Marie asked quickly.

Lucius narrowed his gaze on the young girl. Jeff quickly went to his sister's side. "Did Miss Granger tell you all about Death Eaters, too?" Lucius folded his arms in front of him.

"She told us about the war with the Dark Lord Voldemort, and about Harry Potter, and Death Eaters. You're not in prison, so I just wondered if you were one, because Draco said he was. He showed us his Dark Mark once."

Lucius didn't know what to reveal to these children. Their own father was a Death Eater, though like his son, he was extremely young when forced to take the mark by his family and the Dark Lord. Looking in the window of the store in front of them, he decided ignoring the matter was not the answer, even though he wanted to do that very much. Apparently, his son and their tutor had ignored things long enough.

Well, no more.

Lucius moved over to a bench, which was next to another shop. He motioned for the children to join him. Marie sat next to him and Jeff sat on the end.

"I was a Death Eater. I was once the Dark Lord's most trusted advisor. I spent time in prison for my crimes. I'm not a perfect man, and I still do many wrong things, but one thing I don't do is still subscribe to the Dark Lord's doctrine, which supported the theory that Muggle-borns and half bloods were inferior to purebloods. I'm still proud of my heritage, but that doesn't mean I think I'm better than others, do you understand?"

Marie glanced over at her brother, who was nodding. She looked back toward Mr. Malfoy and nodded as well. He added, "Your father was only a little older than my Draco, just out of Hogwarts, when he was forced by his father to take the Dark Mark."

Marie looked on the verge of tears. "Our father was one of those people? He was a Death Eater? He fought on the dark side during the war?" Without looking, she grabbed her little brother's hand.

"Yes and no," Lucius commented. "He was a Death Eater, but like my son, it wasn't his own choice. And he did things for the light side, at peril to himself, therefore when the war was over, he was granted a lighter sentence, and then a full pardon."

"Why didn't he ever tell us all of this?" Marie inquired.

"I have no clue, although I assume he might have if he had lived longer," the older man said steadily. "For some daft reason, he seemed to have been ashamed of his magical side, but magic is something to be proud of, not ashamed of, and I want you to be proud."

Lucius stood up, smoothed down his robes, and without another word to the pair, he walked straight into the Quidditch shop. Marie and Jeff remained on the bench, by themselves, and finally Jeff wrote on his notebook, _**"It doesn't matter to me. He was our father, and I still love him."**_

Marie stood, said in agreement, "I still love him, too," and with her brother behind her, they followed Lucius inside the shop.

Like most boys, Jeff loved all sorts of sports, but being small for his age, he never excelled at any of them, but the first time he saw a Quidditch game, he fell in love with the game. He was fascinated with flying and with all things concerning the sport. He drew complicated drawings that featured all things Quidditch and he wrote stories about it, too. After Hermione gave them a book about it, he read it from cover to cover, more than once. Everything in the store enthralled him, he began to finger all the equipment, his eyes bright and round, his mouth opened in awe.

From behind him, Lucius asked, "Do you know anything of this sport, besides having watched your father play it a few times?"

Jeff pointed to a book and then toward his chest. "Ah." Lucius understood. "Did Miss Granger have you read this book, is that it?" Jeff nodded yes. Lucius laughed, and picked up _Quidditch through the Ages_, then placed it back on the shelf. "Well then, you know the basics."

Marie began to rummage through the different uniforms hanging on a rack. "Is this where the team members for Hogwarts get their uniforms?" she asked.

Lucius answered, "They can, yes. They have a nice assortment of brooms as well." He pointed up at the ceiling and said, "They have the house colours of each Hogwarts house hanging above, and at the end of each year, they change these to represent the team of the winning house." He stepped further back into the mostly empty store, with Marie and Jeff following him.

A clerk approached. "Hello, Mr. Malfoy. How may I help you today?"

"These are my son's wards. If they require anything, you will help them, and with all haste, is that understood, man?" Lucius looked down on the small man with a haughty air, which Jeff found intriguing, and Marie found somewhat vexing.

"Oh, of course, of course, it's so nice to meet them, charmed, I'm sure." He turned to Marie and Jeff and bowed at the waist. "I'll set up an account in your son's name. Are they going to Hogwarts this coming term, sir?"

"Of course they are," Malfoy replied. "Now leave us in peace. We shall beckon you if we require assistance."

The man backed away, down another aisle. Lucius turned to the children and explained, "You must always show those under you who's in charge. Remember that children. Now, Jeffrey, just because you're small for your age, doesn't mean you can't play Quidditch. We should get you a broom, and hire an instructor right away. You probably won't play the first year, because no one ever plays their first year."

He was interrupted when Marie said, "Hermione told us that her friend Harry Potter was the youngest seeker in a century and he played his first year."

Lucius acted as if he didn't hear her and continued talking, "…but that's no reason why you shouldn't get all the equipment and practice, if you're interested, that is. I say you have a good chance to be a keeper or a seeker some day, if you apply yourself."

"I don't even like Quidditch and my brother mostly likes to draw and write stories about it," Marie interjected.

Lucius turned toward her and said, "If you don't like Quidditch then why are you still here? Go to another store or something. I think there's a bookstore around the corner."

Marie gasped and looked terribly hurt. She backed away and then walked slowly down another aisle. Lucius beckoned for the clerk and told him to outfit Jeff with all the equipment he would need…from a new broomstick (the very best Draco's money could buy) to a full set of balls and equipment (a Quaffles, two Bludgers, a Golden Snitch, four bats, whistles, and a complete uniform.) He knew that would keep Jeff happy and occupied, while he did something to mollify his sister.

Lucius spied Marie at the end of one of the aisles, at the back of the store, standing and staring in front of an old, long, wooden, glass enclosed, display case. The case was taller than she was, and took up the entire back wall of the store. Inside the display case were pictures of both professional Quidditch teams as well as teams from Hogwarts over the years, along with trophies and ribbons and other paraphernalia.

The young girl was running her hand lightly across the glass, deep in thought, not really paying attention to the contents of the case. Lucius stood on the other side of the case, pointed to a picture and said, "Here's a picture of the Slytherin team when Draco played with them the very first year. I bought them all new brooms that year."

"How nice," Marie commented, without emotion. She stopped walking and stared down at the glass, her hand over the picture in question. After several long, drawn out moments of silence, she asked, "Why don't you like me?"

He walked closer to her, hesitated, and then answered, "I like you."

"You don't act as if you do," she complained.

"You don't act as if you like me either," he pointed out.

Moving her hand back and forth over the glass she said, "Perhaps I don't. I don't know. I think I resent you being here. I think you're here to cause trouble, and I don't like it."

Again, silence ensued before he said, "Perhaps I'm here to prevent trouble, and I think you're a bit too insightful. I think you're a bit too much like your tutor for my taste. Draco told his mother you were a true Slytherin, through and through, but do you want to know what I think, Miss Marie?"

Marie turned to look up at the older man. "What do you think?"

Lucius looked down into the dark brown eyes of the young girl, on the cusp of womanhood, and he saw no fear, no apprehension, only inquisitiveness, bravery, honesty, a sense of high morals, and a sense of protectiveness. In other words, he saw a young Hermione Granger, and it unnerved him. He was about to say so, when he noticed that she glanced away from him and started staring hard, over his shoulder, at something high in the display case.

She stepped around him, stood as close to the case as she could, and pressed her nose almost right against the glass. "Mr. Malfoy, could you help me?"

Lucius was again unnerved, but more by her determined attitude and by the unexpected change of subject. He stepped closer. "How may I assist you?"

"I'm not tall enough to read what this says," she complained, standing on tiptoes, hands pressed on the glass. Lucius pulled out his wand and said a simple hovering charm so that the girl was soon almost as tall as he was. With her new height, she looked intently at a picture of a Hogwarts Quidditch team, her hands pressed flat against the smooth, cold glass.

The picture was a Magical picture, so the members of the portrait moved around. The participants were smiling and waving. Underneath the framed picture was a plaque with the words, **Hogwarts Quidditch Cups Winner 1994.**

Lucius stood behind her, one hand coming to rest beside hers on the glass, the other on her back, to steady her. "What is it? What's wrong?" he asked, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he knew. He saw the face of a young man smiling back at him from the picture. The boy would have been in his fifth year, and he was the Slytherin Chaser. Dark haired, handsome, outgoing. Marie had his eyes. Jeff had his smile.

And underneath his picture was the name _'Charles Warrington - Chaser'._

By this time, Jeff had joined them. He had on full Quidditch garb, with a beaters' bat in his hand. He was confused at first…why was his sister hovering off the ground in front of a display case? Why was she breathing hard, almost at the point of tears? Why was Lucius Malfoy looking frantically around the store?

Lucius said the spell to suspend the charm and Marie came back to the ground. She wasn't aware that her brother was standing on her other side of her when she asked the older man, "Why does it say Charles Warrington under a picture of my father as a boy? His name was Ian Charles Ellington! True, some of his magical friends, like Draco and Oliver Wood called him Charlie, because of his middle name, but his name wasn't Charles Warrington!"

Lucius looked from Marie, to Jeff, then back toward the doorway of the store. Where were his blasted son and Miss 'Mudblood' Granger when he needed them? Marie actually grabbed Lucius' robe and demanded, "Mr. Malfoy, please, tell me if that's my father!"

"Yes," was all he could say.

"Is that his real name?"

"Yes," he answered again.

"And he lied to us all these years?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Lucius answered honestly, because he didn't.

Marie stifled a sob and turned, running from the store, confused.

Lucius started to run after her, but was force to turn back when he heard a loud smashing sound behind him.

The sound of shattered glass and splintered wood rebounded like thunder throughout the empty store, and the clerk came running toward the back, his wand drawn, as Jeff took the beaters bat and smashed the glass from the display case into pieces. Lucius drew his wand and held up his hand for the man to halt.

Jeff reached up into the case, grabbed the picture, and stared at it. With a ragged, disjointed breath, and the picture in one hand, the beater's bat in the other, he walked across the glass and wood, the broken glass squishing and splintering under the weight of his feet, toward Lucius Malfoy.

He dropped the bat to the floor, stood beside Lucius, and showed him the picture. The elderly man placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and nodded, before he confirmed, "Yes, that's your father. His name was Charles Warrington. I'm sorry everyone lied about his name, but you shouldn't have broken that display case like that, boy."

Jeff shook his head no, as tears began to rush out of his eyes. He shook in fresh fury, and pointed at another person in the picture. He pointed the tip of his index finger right on the girl's body, several times hard, and then looked up at Lucius, imploring the man to understand.

Finally, Lucius did. He understood. He nodded once more, took the picture from the boy's tight grip, tucked it inside his robe, placed a protective arm around the boy's small shoulder and said, "I understand, Jeff. I understand. Don't fear."

Looking at the still startled clerk, Lucius Malfoy threw a handful of galleons on the floor, flicked his wrist at the display case, fixing it as if it had never been broken, and said, "We'll be taking this outfit, all of the things he picked out, as well as this picture. Have everything we don't walk out with delivered to The Hounds Tooth Inn. Do you understand?"

The clerk agreed without protest, rushing over to collect the things Jeff left in the other aisle. Walking toward the front of the store, Lucius said, "Get changed into your clothing and get your rucksack, Jeffrey. We need to find your sister."

Jeff pointed again toward Lucius' pocket of his robe, where the older man had tucked the picture.

"Don't worry about this woman." Jeff wiped his tears with the back of his hands with Lucius' promise and started toward the dressing room. "Jeff?" Lucius called out.

Jeff turned back.

"Does she have anything to do with why you can't speak?"

Once again, the boy merely nodded, for he could do nothing else.

Lucius felt anger on behalf of the boy, but he didn't show it. "Run along, get dressed, and then we'll find your sister." On the outside, Lucius was his usual calm and collected. On the inside, he was incensed and was already plotting revenge. Was this the trouble his son spoke of, if so, he didn't think his son realize the extent of the trouble.

Thank goodness, Lucius had decided to come to Hogsmeade after all.

* * *

For anyone else who is having problems editing their stories (with the Error 2 message) here is what a few very nice readers have told me to do -

_adding chapters to existing stories -_

_When you click 'Edit' and get the 'Error Type 2' message, look up in_  
_your address bar. In the URL, if you delete the word 'properties' and replace_  
_it with the word 'content,' then hit enter, it should take you to where you_  
_can edit your chapters._


	22. Chapter 22

All characters belong to JK Rowling

**Chapter 22 – The Unrelenting Irony that is the Unrelenting Truth –**

Hermione and Draco were on the floor of their suite, arms and legs tangled together, lips swollen from kissing, clothes rumpled and wrinkled, some even tossed to the side. Rolling to his side, Draco turned to face her, a pondering look upon his face, one hand tangled in the mass of her honey-hued hair, the other upon the gentle swell of her stomach.

Moments ago she was on the verge of telling him her biggest secret, (now that he already knew that she was pregnant). A secret that he already knew – that being that Charles Warrington was the father of the baby she was carrying.

Now that it was over, he thought - If only his secrets were as simple as hers were.

To manipulate her and to keep her from telling him her secret (the secret he already knew) he began kissing her, holding her, caressing her, and then he pulled her over to his lap, rolled onto his back and they quickly made love, all without undressing or confessing, and he would do it again if it would keep her quiet. Hell, he would do it again anyway. But who and what were going to keep him from revealing HIS secrets to her.

Now that it was over, she was almost too quiet. They weren't looking at each other, or touching each other, in fact they were almost avoiding each other, if possible. Her eyes were closed, but he knew she wasn't sleeping. Touching the thin layer of skin that covered one eye with the very tip of his finger, he propped up on his elbow and asked, "Are you playing opossum, or are you really sleeping?"

"No." She opened her eyes.

"No?" He smiled. "I'm not sure 'no' answers my question."

She smiled queerly, pulled down her skirt, and straightened her shirt, then propping up on her elbow to face him on the floor, she asked, "How is that not answering your question? No – I wasn't playing opossum, and No – I wasn't asleep."

"Ah, I see, you're correct, and once again, I'm wrong," he conceded. They stared at each other and a long silence ensued.

"Perhaps it would be better to have our discussion and be over with it," she revealed.

He sighed, rolled back to his back, and threw both arms over his face. He didn't say a word. Sitting beside his supine body, she supplied, "It's only that I'll worry about it endlessly, until I tell you. That little interlude before was nice, but it didn't make me forget that I wanted to tell you something important, Draco Malfoy. I'm not some empty headed slag who can only think of one thing at a time."

"No, but a man can dream can't he?" he joked with a smile, peaking through a slit in his arms. She laughed and hit his chest hard with a hand. He moaned slightly and said, "An empty headed, sex driven, Hermione Granger is all I've ever wanted!"

Smiling, she placed a flat hand on his chest where she slapped him seconds prior, said nothing else on THAT subject, and revealed, "It's best to get it off my chest. Get if over with, like pulling off a plaster in one pull, don't you think?"

Placing his arms behind his head to hold it up slightly, he contended, "I was always a bit of a coward. I hated having my plasters pulled off quickly. I liked them being pulled off a tiny bit at a time. I know you're pregnant, and that's enough for me to know for now."

Moving the hand on his chest back and forth, she leaned over and stared straight into his eyes. He felt as if she were staring into his soul. "Why don't you want to know who the father is? Isn't the suspense killing you? Isn't there some sort of masculine pride thing that makes you want to know? Makes you jealous or something?"

"No." He sat up, forcing her hand to fall away. He scooted backwards until his back was up against the footboard of the bed, his legs straight out in front of him. "My consolation in this entire mess is that I have you. That's enough, and it doesn't matter who the father is, because I'll love the baby because I love you, so there."

"So there?" she said with a laugh, sitting opposite him. "Are we children again?"

"I was trying to be honest with you," he said with a frown.

"I'm sorry, of course you were, and while that's admirable and sweet," she said, rolling her eyes, which made him laugh (because she acted as if she thought it was anything BUT admirable and sweet), "Aren't you afraid he'll swoop in and lay claim to it someday? I know I am."

"Oh, sweetheart," he remarked, crawling over to her, and cupping her cheek with one hand. "That won't happen."

"It might. Draco, listen, I have something a bit shocking to tell you. This man was a former Death Eater. There, I said it. Just like you and your father. I guess I have a taste for bad boys."

Draco didn't even try to stifle his smile when he remarked, "Are you trying to tell me that you have an attraction for my father?"

She pushed him slightly, got up on her knees, and with no trace of reserve in her voice said, "Ugh, no!"

Standing, offering her a hand so she could stand too, he pulled her up and once they were both standing he said, "No one will take your baby, if that's what is worrying you, Granger. No one." Just as no one would ever take Marie and Jeff from them. He placed a hand back on her cheek, his thumb touching the corner of her mouth.

Leaning in to kiss her as his thumb stroked her bottom lip, he promised, "No one," once more before placing his mouth upon hers. While he was kissing her, he knew he could ease her mind easily if he would only tell her the complete truth – _Charles Warrington is dead. Charles Warrington was also the father of the children. Charles Warrington didn't leave you that morning. He drove away with every intention of coming back, but he got in a car accident. Yes, he lied to you and said he couldn't drive, but that was the Slytherin thing to do, to get you to drive him to the wedding, so he could spend more time with you._

Draco should tell her all of that, but if he did, he would also have to tell her - _Charles Warrington made me promise on his deathbed that I would look after you, no matter what, if he died -_ and Draco didn't want Hermione to think that was the only reason he was with her. And if he told her THAT deathbed confession, he'd have to tell her the other, and he wasn't prepared to tell anyone that one yet!

The first promise was the reason Draco asked her to tutor the children in the beginning, but he had no clue she was pregnant back then. He had no clue she had given her heart to Charles. He had no clue that he, Draco Malfoy, would fall so fast and so hard for her, just as Charles Warrington had done.

And if he confessed all of this to her, he would also have to tell her about the danger that Jeff and Marie were in, and that now involved her unborn child. She was afraid a dead man would take her child, but there were greater dangers to her baby than a dead ex-Death Eater, and he couldn't – no – he wouldn't, tell her that yet.

Perhaps it was a good thing his father had come. His father could help him with this other problem. As soon as the other problem was resolved, he would tell Hermione, Jeff and Marie all about Charles Warrington.

They were still kissing when they heard a frantic knock upon the door of their suite. Pulling back first, Hermione looked down to make sure she was adequately dressed. She pushed Draco away, whispered, "You almost distracted me again, you evil, evil man!" Smoothing her hair with her hand, she picked up her sweater from the arm of the chair to hold in front of her stomach, and she hurried to answer the door.

Marie stood on the other side, tears streaking her beautiful face.

Draco rushed to Hermione's side. Pulling her inside, Hermione placed her hand on Marie's face and frantically asked, "What's wrong? Are you hurt? Did something happen? Was Lucius cruel to you?"

"Hermione!" Draco chastised. "Why would you naturally assume that first?" He pushed Hermione away from his ward and with his arm around Marie's shoulders he guided her to the chair by the fireplace. "Calm down and tell me what happened."

"First, your father is awful, Draco," Marie supplied. Hermione elbowed Draco and gave him an _'I told you so'_ glare. "He doesn't like me because he says I'm too much like Hermione."

"He wouldn't dare say that!" Hermione bellowed, her arms folded in front of her, her sweater dropping to the floor. With only her long-sleeve t-shirt on, she finally looked pregnant. Marie couldn't help but stare at her, which prompted Draco to do the same. Hermione looked down at her stomach and said, "Fine, whatever, you both already know I'm pregnant, no use trying to hide it any longer, now let's get back to the conversation at hand! What did that bad, evil, tyrannical, cruel, malicious, wicked, nasty…"

"GRANGER!" Draco beckoned, "Please, let's get back to Marie!"

"But I wasn't done," she pouted. Draco pinched her arm, very hard, and she slapped him in return, then said, "Oh, alright, Marie, what did that mean man do to you?"

Draco sighed and looked back toward Marie.

"I'm not crying because of the mean things he said. I could care less if some former Death Eater likes me or not, although he seems to like Jeff plenty. He's letting him buy all sorts of Quidditch gear."

"I'll buy you whatever you want," Draco offered.

"Oh, wait, I should revise what I said," Marie countered. "You're buying Jeff all sorts of Quidditch gear, as your father told the clerk at the store to charge it to you, but that's not why I'm crying either. I'm not jealous of my little brother."

"Then get to the bloody point," Draco barked.

Hermione made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat, said something about, "Like Father like son," and pushed Draco out of the way. She sat on the arm of the chair, took Marie's hand and said, "Tell me what's wrong, darling."

"I found out my father lied to us, and I don't know why!" she said, fresh tears washing down her face.

Draco's eyes became wide as saucers and he took several steps backwards. What was Marie going to say next? "What do you mean?" he asked.

"In the Quidditch store, there were pictures of the Hogwarts teams and the players' names were underneath the pictures and there was a moving picture, you know, a wizard picture, and in it was a boy about 15 or 16 years old, and I recognized him as being my dad at that age."

"Go on," Hermione insisted.

Draco felt as if he might faint if she did. He looked at the doorway just then, because his father and Jeff were standing there. Marie's eyes flashed to the door as well, but only for a moment. Hermione kept her gaze on young Marie. Jeff swept into the room to stand beside his sister's chair.

"Oh, Hermione, my dad lied about his name for some reason. His name wasn't Ian Charles Ellington at all," Marie explained.

Hermione held Marie's hand, but she looked swiftly to Draco, then to Lucius, who still stood in the open doorway, just over the threshold.

"What was his name?" Hermione asked, dread filling every pore, a heavy weight upon her chest, mouth dry, and hands sweating, because it was almost as if she already knew. A flash of truth hit her like a lightning bolt, almost as if she always knew. Marie and Jeff looked so much like him, and she knew that Charles lived a double life, most of the time he lived in the Muggle world, and she had heard rumors that he had a pseudonym as a Muggle.

Still, she waited for Marie to substantiate her worst fears.

"The name under the picture said Charles Warrington the Third," Marie confirmed.

Hermione dropped Marie's hand, stood up, and she began to shake all over. Tears, hot and heavy, pressed against her eyelids, burned her nose, and even made her teeth ache. She wrapped her arms around her stomach, as if she were holding her own precious baby, her link to this man, these children, a long ago world, and a misplaced dream.

She looked at Draco. He was looking at the floor, and that was when she KNEW that he had KNOWN all along. This wasn't about her. She had to hold herself together for the children. Marie's head dipped down to her knees, her long, dark, silky hair hanging over her legs. Her back arched, her shoulders bunched, sobs coming out uncontrollably.

Her younger brother, silent and stoic, was standing beside her, his hand on her back, with one single tear falling off his jaw, onto the arm of the chair. Hermione rushed to the pair, dropped to her knees, and placed a hand on both of them.

Then she asked a question that begged to be asked, that she needed to know for herself, but which would also soothe their restless souls. "Was he a good father?" she asked in a hoarse voice that almost broke with tears of her own. "Was he?" Goodness, but she needed to know the answer to this more than she needed anything.

Marie looked up at her brother, then toward Hermione. "Oh, yes. He was the best daddy in the world. The whole world. He must have had a reason for lying, right?"

Hermione nodded. She couldn't speak. She hoped everyone had a reason for lying, so she said so. "I hope so. I hope lies of such a magnitude were for a very good reason." She glanced back at Draco, who finally looked up in time to catch her eye.

"He loved us, and he was a wonderful father," Marie concluded. "Right Jeff?"

Jeff wiped away another tear, afraid of appearing weak, afraid to show his true feelings, and he agreed with his sister with a curt nod of his head. Then in a gesture that almost broke Hermione's heart, he brought a hand to _her face_ and wiped away a tear from her cheek, too. A tear she didn't even know she had shed.

Hermione reached up for Jeff's hand, removed it from her face, placed it back at his side with a shaky smile as she stood, before she turned to Draco. He was again avoiding her eyes. He had walked over to the set of long windows, and was watching the street down below. Walking toward him, she touched his shoulder. In a soft voice, for only his ears, she asked again, "Promise me he would have been a good father to this baby." That was her admission to him, not that she needed to say it, because she knew that he already knew.

He looked at her refection in the wavy old glass of the window, his expression unreadable to her. Grasping her hand, he closed his eyes and said, "Yes. He was a good father to Jeff and Marie, and he would have been a good father to your baby, as will I."

She pulled her hand from his, placed both hands on her face before she dropped to the edge of the bed, and as she made a sort of moaning sound, she said, "We have to get ready for our meeting at Hogwarts now. I don't even know how we're going to manage it, but we have to do it somehow."

From behind her Lucius said, "We'll manage it because we're Malfoys."

Hermione didn't look at him, she merely fell back on the bed, stared up at the ceiling, and mumbled, "Oh, someone take a wand and kill me now, because I'm not sure I can _ever_ handle that."


	23. Chapter 23

All characters belong to JK Rowling

**Chapter 23 – A Chapter That Starts in the Middle of a Long Explanation and Goes from There**

"Is there more?" Harry Potter asked his oldest and dearest friend, letting her fingers fall from his while he moved to stand beside her.

Hermione stood from the smooth, stone window ledge as well and stared outside at the grounds of the school she once loved so much. "I think that's all," she answered. She had just explained to Harry Potter everything she knew concerning the children and Charles thus far, at least everything that he didn't already know. He already knew she was pregnant and that Jeff couldn't speak. Thanks to Malfoy, who told him on the day he hired her, Harry also knew that Charles Warrington was the father of Jeff and Marie. He also knew from Hermione that he was the father of her baby.

However, Hermione informed Harry of a few facts today and Harry knew a few things that Hermione didn't know. He knew HOW Charles died – because Draco also told him THAT secret the day he hired Hermione to teach the children. Malfoy also told him something interesting about the children's mother on that day.

Not much of what she told him surprised him, though he couldn't tell her so. And Harry suspected that there were still secrets amongst the Malfoy men, judging by the way they were conspiring and talking in hushed tones down the hall from them, while Jeff and Marie were in classrooms with Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and a few others.

Harry had also found out a few things on his own in the last couple of months. Secrets he knew Malfoy must be keeping from everyone. Secrets he wouldn't hesitate to tell Hermione if he suspected she was in danger, either real or emotional.

"Harry, I'm speaking to you again," Hermione labored.

"Hmm," Harry hummed, staring straight at Lucius Malfoy, who in turned, stopped talking to Draco to stare right back at him.

"You're staring at them again," Hermione warned, breaking into his concentration.

"That's because I know they're up to something," Harry offered. "Malfoy senior drew a picture in a frame out of his robes and just showed it to ferret boy."

Hermione stood behind her friend, so that she too could stare at the Malfoys. Now it was a bit of a staring contest, with Harry and Hermione at one end of the hallway, staring at the two blond men, and the Malfoys at the other end, staring at Hermione and Harry.

Hermione asked, "He did? What did ferret do?"

"He looked at it and nodded."

"That's odd. I wonder who's in the picture. Then what happened?" As soon as she asked that Draco waved at her, although he didn't smile. She waved back, though she wasn't smiling either.

"Then Daddy Death Eater put the picture back in his robes and turned to Death Eater Junior, then I started staring at them, then Death Eater senior started staring at me, then you started staring at them, and now we're all staring at each other," Harry said. "Can you read their lips?"

"They're not talking," Hermione said on a small laugh. "Only we are. They are still staring however, which is extremely rude, on both our parts."

"I wonder if they can read lips?" Harry asked with a slight smile.

"I don't know," Hermione said, pulling on Harry's arm, to force him to look down at her. "Say something that's sure to rile their temper, something they might be able to read from this far away."

Harry thought for a moment, then raised his hand and gave the Malfoys a two-finger salute.

Hermione laughed, but hit Harry's hand hard, pulling it back down to his body. "Harry James Potter!"

He shrugged. "I thought they'd be able to read that."

Hermione laughed harder, then said, "Look, I think Draco has a message for you in return."

Harry looked back toward Draco and he WAS giving Harry a rude hand gesture back. Lucius looked over at his son, just as Harry and Hermione did, sighed openly, and then pulled his son's hand down, hissing, "You're a grown man, Draco! Explain yourself!"

Draco called down the hallway loudly, "My father wanted me to explain that I did that for Potter, not you, Granger."

Lucius said, "That's not what I meant," even as Hermione called back, "Thank you, I was wondering." Lucius continued to glare at her so she called out to him, "What? Do you men want something else?"

"Why are you both staring at us?" Lucius asked. "It's damn annoying and rude."

"You're staring at us, too," Hermione accused. She stood in front of Harry and added, "In fact, you started it. What's that picture that Harry saw you pull out of your robes?"

"What picture? I didn't see a picture. Potter's scar must be messing with his eyesight." Lucius looked at Draco and said softer, "I told you I'd show it to you when we got back to the Inn, but you insisted on me showing it to you right under their noses. You know nothing gets past that annoying Potter." Then he looked back at Hermione and Harry and sneered, "What picture did you mean again?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We aren't stupid, Malfoy."

"Are you certain that statement can be applied to both of you, Miss Granger? Oh, and that's Mr. Malfoy to you," Lucius seethed.

Draco sighed and offered, "Can we pick this debate back up later, when the children are done with their testing? I'm sure all this yelling back and forth is distracting to them, and I'm a bit on edge and nervous right now, and Hermione's already upset enough by the events from earlier in the room." He walked in front of his father, and in low tones added, "Furthermore, I don't want Potter and Granger to know what Jeff did at the Quidditch store, nor what he saw in that picture. Is that understood?"

"What picture?" his father repeated with a half smile.

"Very good," Draco said with another sigh. He walked down the hallway toward Hermione and Harry. "Potter, why are you here?"

"My best friend asked me to come to see your ward," Harry explained.

Draco supplied, "Well, no need. He's fine, so go back and save the world one wizard at a time somewhere else."

"He's fine?" Hermione mocked. "You think it's alright for him not to talk?"

"He's my problem, not yours," Draco said calmly.

Hermione narrowed her gaze and said steadily, "First, he's no one's problem, and second, I'm their teacher, even if I'm nothing else to them."

"I didn't mean you weren't anything to them!" Draco bit back. "Frankly, I'm on tenterhooks here, made worse by the appearance of my father, and worst yet by the appearance of your deity, Potter."

"Your lying did nothing to exacerbate your problem, perhaps?" Hermione accused by asking.

"No, not really, I really think its Potter's face that's made things go down hill," he lied, even if it had been his lying that had caused his unrest and worry.

"Hold on a moment, let's rewind," Harry interrupted, turning to Hermione. "I thought your job was over on Monday. You've been tutoring the children for two months and one week."

"Perhaps it is over," Hermione said, sounded defeated. She looked down at her ever-expanding waistline. She was 16 weeks pregnant. She felt she had come so far, but she had so far to go. She felt the same way about the children and about her relationship with Draco. Knowing she wasn't ready to give any of this up yet, she waited for Draco to say something, but he kept silent. He gave her a look she couldn't decipher, so she walked down the hallway to stand outside the room where Marie was in with Flitwick. Harry was close behind her.

Professor Flitwick, the little Charms teacher, and the Ravenclaw head of house, came walking out into the passageway an instant later. Lucius and Draco walked over toward Hermione, Harry, and the small man.

"How's everything going, Professor?" Hermione asked fretfully.

"Wonderful, wonderful!" he said cheerfully, clapping his hands together. "I say, I'm impressed, Hermione! I can hardly believe this young girl knew almost nothing of magic just two short months ago, and now she's where she is today. I think it's safe to say, though the decision will be the Head Mistress', but it's safe for me to say that she'll start the term with other children' her age, yes she will. She won't be far behind at all."

"We should go ahead and decide her house before she leaves here today, so she knows which robes to get, and of course, she'll need a little extra tutoring before term starts in three weeks, but I'm sure you'll help her. Once school starts, I'll help catch her up, as will some of the older students, I wager."

"I won't lie - I hope she'll wear Ravenclaw's colours, as I thought you should have, but I can see that she could just as easily go to any of the other houses."

Hermione smiled and practically jumped up and down. "Oh, that's the best news we've received all day! Have you told her?"

"Yes, and she seems very pleased, but she's worried about her brother, which is understandable. I have yet to make his acquaintance, but I'm sure he's equally bright. By the way, Draco, you'll have to get her a wand and all her books early, so she can study some more before term starts. Well, I should get back in there. She's finishing up, and will be out shortly." The impressed little professor flounced back into the old Charms classroom and Hermione almost fell into Harry's arms, relieved.

Draco felt jealous and irritated that she wasn't in his arms. He knew that she was slightly miffed at him still, and that they still had many secrets between them (okay, he still had many secrets to tell her) but that was no reason for her to hug St. Potter instead of him, especially regarding good news about HIS ward and her student!

Lucius patted Draco's back once and said, "Good show, son. One down. We'll hope for Slytherin, but Ravenclaw would still be better than Hufflepuff or that other one, but of course."

"Of course," Draco agreed, "but the praise should go to Hermione. She worked hard with the children for the last two months."

Hermione looked over toward the men and smiled slightly. "Thank you, Draco."

"Potter, may I take her from your greasy paws for a moment?" Without waiting for an answer, Draco walked over, took Hermione's arm and pulled her down the long corridor.

"Are you going to continue to treat me as if I have a disease? I feel as if we're back in school, and there's instant animosity between us," Draco accused, his hand still on her lower arm.

"You lied to me," she hissed in a whisper. "Were you ever going to tell me about Charles being the children's father? About him being dead?"

"Were you ever going to tell ME about Charles being the father of that baby inside there, _Miss 'I'm more pregnant than the rest of you'_?" he spat, pointing at her stomach.

"What do you mean by that statement?" she asked, appalled and slightly confused.

"You knew Charles was my friend," he began, "Were you going to tell me he was the father of your baby?"

She clenched her hands in fists at her sides and said, "I don't know. I thought I should tell him first, that's all. Remember something, Malfoy, I didn't know he was dead. I was still searching for him, or I thought Harry was still searching for him for me, and I wanted to tell him about the pregnancy before I told anyone else."

She suddenly turned away from him. She shook in fury and unsung emotional distress. With a catch in her voice she said, "I thought we had a real connection!"

"We still do," he assured, placing a hand on her arm.

She bumped it off and said, "I meant Charles and me. Did you even consider that? I loved him, and I thought he just up and left me! I loved him, and I just found out he died, and I've yet to be able to mourn him!" Facing the wall, and in quiet tones so Lucius and Harry couldn't hear, she said, "We had the best date ever. I had the best two days and one night of my life with that man." She placed her forehead on the wall, her hands flat beside her head. Leaning forward, she continued talking.

"I never, ever, sleep with someone on the first date, but it was different with him. If there's something to falling in love at first sight, it happened to me with him. I fell in love with him. It was all so perfect."

He turned her around slowly. Tears were flowing down her cheeks, and he didn't even know she was crying. If Draco believed in such things as breaking hearts, his was breaking for her right now. With a hand on her cheek, he wiped her tears with his thumb. He wanted to show her an even better date, with him.

He also wanted to assure her that Charles had felt the same things for her, so he reminded her, "Remember, I told you that before your date he told me that he had a date with an angel. Remember that? If you recall, I also told you that the children's father, that would have been Charles, went home after his date with you, and told the children's mother that he had finally met someone that he thought he loved."

It was hard for Draco to tell her these things, and judging from her broken expression, it was hard for her to hear it. She almost crumbled in front of him, so he took her in his arms and ushered her down another hallway, away from prying eyes.

Wrapping her in his arms, so he wouldn't have to look into her painful eyes, he said, "I told you all of this before, but you didn't know I was talking about you at the time, and so let me tell you again. Charles told their mother that he met a woman that he wanted to marry, and after only one date. He meant you, Granger. He wanted the children to come live with him and this woman, and finally to know magic. After one date, Granger, he knew that he loved you. He didn't even know you were pregnant, yet he loved you. I know you didn't know I was talking about you when I told you this story, but I was."

"I forgot that you told me that about the children's father and the fact that he had met a woman," she said, pushing away from him. "That seems like a lifetime ago. You're right, I didn't know you were talking about him and me at the time." Wiping her hands over her tear soaked face, she asked, "Please tell me what he made you promise to do on his deathbed?"

"Oh, don't ask me that yet," Draco wailed. He didn't want her to think he had her with him out of obligation, because frankly, if Charles Warrington had fallen in love with her at first sight, couldn't it be plausible that Draco Malfoy loved her? Hell, he had known her most of his life.

But that didn't mean they loved each other. She was probably still in love with a man she had slept with after only one date. After having that thought, Draco looked up at her and asked, "Granger, you said that you never sleep with a man after only one date, right?"

"Of course not, what do you take me for, some slag?" she asked, looking even more hurt and offended. "I only told you that, because I wanted you to know that what I felt for Charles was real and meaningful. I dated Anthony for weeks, and we didn't sleep together, because I didn't love him."

Suddenly, a weight lifted from Draco's chest. She slept with HIM the first night they were at the house with the children, the first night of her employment. True, she felt guilty and insisted that he go away afterwards, but she still slept with him. That had to have meant something, because Hermione Granger was nothing if she wasn't a woman of morals. Then she slept with him again after he came back home.

And again today.

She loved him.

Hermione Granger loved Draco Malfoy, probably as much as he loved her.

Wait. Draco loved Hermione Granger? He turned away from her and now he was the one facing the wall.

Placing a hand on his shoulder she inquired, "Draco? Are you okay? You look slightly green."

"You don't sleep with someone unless you love them, do you?"

"I tried to make that plain to you when you kept insisting on calling it sex after we slept together, and I wanted to call it making love, but no, you had to keep calling it…" and suddenly, she stopped, because he swung around to face her, and she placed her hand over her mouth.

He had a wide grin on his face. Pointing a finger at her, he said, "You love me, you little witch."

"Well, of course I do, you daft, arse! I told you so. I said it after we made love. Do you think I just go around saying things I don't mean?" She felt his forehead. "Seriously, Draco, we have enough problems right now. Don't go all wonky on me, okay?"

* * *

_*I wonder what house Marie should belong? There will be another chapter Friday!_


	24. Chapter 24

All characters belong to JK Rowling

**Chapter 24 – How about Another Chapter since its Short?**

So it was established, and it must be true, Hermione Granger loved Draco Malfoy. The world didn't come to an end. The ground didn't split open, hail didn't fall down from the sky. It was strange, it was unlikely, it was odd, but still, it was true. Draco pulled Hermione into his arms and said, "You really love me." That thought filled him with peace. Lowering his mouth to hers, he kissed her plump, red wet lips and it felt glorious.

"Can you imagine what that will do to my father and Potter?" he asked.

Hermione made a sort of odd noise in the back of her throat. "I can only handle one catastrophe at a time, and I find that at the moment, dealing with the whole 'Charles is dead thing, and I now love my former enemy' about as much as I can handle," she proclaimed. "Will you tell me everything you know about Charles?"

Rocking her back and forth he said, "Charles made me promise on his deathbed that I would always look after the children, protect them from their mother and her family, and that I would keep you safe, take care of you, and make sure you're happy, but frankly, the thought of that at the time made me slightly sick to my stomach because you usually made me sick to my stomach, but now that I love you, I can't imagine not doing it."

That long sentence took Hermione a moment to digest. Pushing away from his arms she said, "You aren't with me out of obligation?"

"Nope, because of love, you idiot," he joked.

"Never call me an idiot," she said smoothly. "I have to think for a moment." Pushing out of his arms, she took a deep breath and then concluded, "Fine. I can live with that, but I hardly need taken care of, as I can take care of myself."

"You might have to take care of me when my father finds out that I love you. He seemed fine with the fact that I was sleeping with you, but love is different," he said seriously.

Hermione glared at him and said, "Then I can't wait to tell him. Let's go do it now." She took his hand and started back down the long corridor toward the classrooms where they left Harry and Lucius Malfoy. While they were walking, she looked over at him and said, "I just realized that you said Charles made you promise that you'd protect the children from their mother. Why would he make you promise such a thing?"

Draco knew he had said more than he intended. Now he would have to tell her everything else. He gave her hand a squeeze and said, "Tonight. I'll explain the rest tonight."

In the other hallway, Harry asked Lucius, "Are you staying here tonight?"

"Yes, I got a room at the Hounds Tooth Inn," Lucius said slowly, acting bored, walking closer to the classroom where McGonagall was in with Jeff.

Harry made a disgusted noise and said, "Yes, I hear they still give special rates to ex-Death Eaters."

"That they do," Lucius confirmed. "Please tell me you aren't staying overnight, Potter."

"No," Harry said in clipped tones. "I'm only staying long enough to see Jeff. I want to see if a dark curse was used on him."

"I can do that, so you may leave," Lucius concluded.

"While I know you probably know more about dark curses than most, having used more than your fair share, I think I'll stay," Harry finished.

Lucius sneered, "There's no reason for that. We Malfoys don't need your help."

"Hermione Granger asked for my help, so I'm staying for her," Harry countered. "If my friends ask for my help, they get it. Even if they don't ask for it, they get it."

"Hermione Granger has no say in the welfare of these children," Lucius opposed. He was about to say that Hermione Granger was about to become a Malfoy, because he knew that his son was in love with the Mudblood, but he didn't even know if his son knew that yet, and he was sure Hermione Granger didn't know it yet, so no reason telling Potter yet.

"And you have no say in what I do," Harry said with a smile.

Lucius laughed only once. "You always were an insolent, little bastard."

Harry merely smiled at the older man and said, "I suppose it would be cliché to say that it takes one to know one."

"Gentlemen?" Professor McGonagall walked out of the classroom, followed by Professor Slughorn and two other Professors that Harry had never seen before. "Where are Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger?"

"I'll go get them." Harry started to jog around the corner just as Hermione and Draco came into view.

Lucius wasted no time and asked, "What did you decide about the boy. I suppose with his handicap, he won't be able to attend Hogwarts when the term starts in a few weeks."

One of the younger Professors said, "My name is Professor Frantz. I'm the DADA teacher here."

"And that answers my question how?" Lucius asked with insolence.

Hermione and Draco approached with Harry as the young man introduced himself. Draco said, "I apologize for my father. I'm Mr. Malfoy, the boy's foster-father, and it's nice to meet you, Professor Frantz. I take it that it's your first year here, right?"

"Well, no, it's my third," the man said.

All three of the former Hogwarts students looked surprised and Harry said with a shrug, "The curse on the DADA professor must be broken. They must be able to stay longer than a year now."

"Yes, of course, the former curse," the Professor said, slightly annoyed. "As I was saying, Jeff shows amazing aptitude, even without a wand, which is absolutely remarkable for his age, and the fact that he's a half blood. He can perform wandless, and of course, silent magic. Did you all know?"

All of the adults looked shocked, Hermione especially. "No, he's shown no indication of that, at least not in the two months that I've taught him."

Professor McGonagall nodded and said, "Yes, he's extremely intelligent, and his magical ability probably rivals that of the young Mr. Potter at that age, which is why I'm glad you're here, Mr. Potter. Anthony Goldstein sent me a report on the young man, and he said that you'd be coming to examine him, and frankly, I'd love your opinion on the reason he stopped talking."

"Certainly, it's why I've come," Harry said, giving Lucius Malfoy a sarcastic glare.

"I don't think it's wise to tire him much more today," McGonagall stated. "I think tomorrow perhaps. A trip to Diagon Alley to get school supplies for the children, and then a private session, just Mr. Potter and Jeffrey in the early afternoon, though I'd like to observe along with Horace and Professor Frantz."

Hermione felt optimistic, and asked, "Does that mean that Jeff will be able to attend school in a few weeks, along with Marie?"

"Of course, Miss Granger," the Head Mistress smiled. "We don't consider his inability to speak as a handicap, as Lucius Malfoy called it, and we'll work around that in any way we have to, to give him the best education that we can. Now, we won't sort him into a house until he arrives this fall, but Marie will be sorted later today, say after dinner? You're all invited to join us in the Great Hall tonight. It won't be a grand affair, with only a limited staff on hand, but I think the elves can conjure something nice up for us to eat."

"Thank you, yes," Hermione agreed for everyone, but Draco interjected, "Potter, my father and the children can attend, but Granger and I have date."

"We do?" she asked, giving him an odd look.

He nodded. The thought had just come to him. He was going to give her a first date to rival her first date with Charles. Draco looked toward Lucius and asked, "Father, will you see that the children arrive safely back to the Inn after dinner?"

"Ha!" Harry barked. "I'll see them back to the Inn…safely."

Lucius sneered at Harry and said, "Really, Potter, you're no longer needed to save the world, and your demise would no longer be a tragedy, so don't forget that."

Hermione smiled at Harry and then nodded to Draco, ignoring Lucius. "Fine, I guess we have our first date tonight, after we speak to the children, that is."

That time arrived sooner than Hermione realized, as Professor Frantz brought Jeff out of the classroom and Flitwick ushered Marie out of the other classroom. Marie smiled brightly and ran into Hermione's waiting arms. "I'm going to start with the other third year students, Hermione! I won't be thought of as different after all!"

"I know, that's wonderful! After dinner in the Great Hall tonight, you'll find out what house you'll belong," Hermione said, hugging her tightly.

Jeff remained in the doorway to his classroom, sinking slightly back in the room. Harry was the only one who seemed to notice him, as all the other adults: both Malfoys and all the professors, were showering praises upon his sister.

Harry looked down at Jeff and smiled. "Hello, Jeff. I'm Harry Potter."

Jeff waved slightly, then wrote something on his notebook and showed it to Harry. It said, _**"I'll still be different, won't I?"**_

Harry continued to smile. He lifted his bangs from his own forehead and said, "Try living with a lightning bolt on your forehead, or being known as the 'boy who lived'. Now that's different. I know the Head Mistress doesn't think we should talk until tomorrow, but why don't we take a small walk down to the Gamekeeper's cabin before dinner. I want you to meet the very first person I ever met here at Hogwarts. He was my first magical friend, and his name's Hagrid, and I think he'll be a good friend to you while you're in school."

Without a word to anyone, Harry took Jeff's hand in his and he ushered him out of the school, toward Hagrid's cottage.

Lucius noticed, but decided not to say a word. He would let Harry heal the boy. St. Potter was useful with things like that, and while he was healing the boy, and his son was healing Miss Granger and the girl, he would worry about the other problems facing his new family.

* * *

_*A chapter of 'The Scarf' on Sunday and another chapter of this story as well perhaps, if it's back from my beta!_


	25. Chapter 25

All characters belong to JK Rowling

**Chapter 25 –Draco Malfoy was a Liar, but That Shouldn't Surprise Hermione Granger**

Marie sat on the edge of Hermione's bed, swinging her legs back and forth, and while her tutor was dressing for her 'first date' with Draco, the young girl was filling her in on the testing from earlier.

"When Professor Hollis asked me if I'd ever heard of that spell, I swear, I almost drew a blank, I did," the pretty girl laughed.

Hermione walked out of the bathroom at that statement. "But that was one of the first spells I ever told you." She shook her head and asked, "Will you zip me, please?" She turned her back to Marie, who in turn, stood from the bed and started to zip Hermione's dress.

"I know!" she answered, "but I forgot it at first, but suddenly, it all came tumbling back, like a damn broke, and I remembered it. Then Professor Flitwick asked me what I knew about charms, and I told him that was my favourite subject and then, well, I knew I had won them over." She bounced back down on the bed with a large smile on her bed.

Hermione placed an earring in her ear, while a matching smile came upon her face. "You're a smooth one all right. I bet anything you'll be in Slytherin. Are you sure you don't mind Draco and I going out tonight, because that means we'll miss your sorting."

Marie shrugged. "If I'd been here during my first year, my parents would've missed it anyway, so I don't mind if you miss it now." She stood from the bed and added, "I should go get ready for dinner. Harry Potter said he'd be here to pick Jeff and me up around six and it's almost that now. Have fun tonight, Hermione." She left the room without another word or a look toward Hermione. If she had, she would have seen the shocked expression on her face.

Draco walked into the room just as Marie was leaving it. He pulled Marie's hair as she walked by him, then winked at Hermione and said, "You look pretty." He waited a moment, then asked, "Wait, what's wrong. You have a blank, vacant expression on your face that's usually reserved for members of the Weasley family."

"Marie just more or less called you and me her parents," Hermione expressed, sitting down on the bed behind her. "She said something about the fact that she didn't mind if we missed her sorting tonight, because if she'd been sorted during her first year, her parents would have missed it anyway." She placed her hands on her lap and hung her head.

Draco approached slowly, and when he stood before her he asked, "So? Does that upset you or something?"

"Don't you see, Malfoy? I let those children get too close to me, and in return, I got too close to them. I don't know what all this means, because my job's over on Monday. Two days from now, I'll be out of there lives," she said.

He frowned, sat beside her and pressed, "You bloody well will not." At least, not if he had anything to do with it.

"But our agreement…"

"I don't give a shite about our agreement!" Draco stood and began to pace in front of her. "Blimey, Hermione, don't the words 'I love you' mean anything to you? What's with people these days? Is sex just empty sex?"

"Of course not, Malfoy, but you hired me for a job," Hermione stated.

"And you'll get your effing money, don't worry about that!" Draco bellowed. He threw his arms in the air and said, "I'm going back out in the hall and we're going to do this all over again, and you, Granger, are going to act halfway normal. I know it'll be hard for you, because you had that weird Muggle upbringing, but try really hard. Don't mention leaving again, don't mention this being a job, and don't you dare mention empty sex or money!"

He actually turned to leave the room.

"Draco?"

With a sigh, and without turning to face her - "What?"

"You're the one that mentioned sex being sex and you mentioned money," she pointed out. He turned to face her with anger in his eyes, then turned back toward the open door and started out of it. Still, she forged on and asked, "Though you will still give _The Granger School for the Gifted_ the large endowment you promised, right?"

He turned back around to face her so fast she cowered on the bed for a second, her eyes wide, though she had a smile on her face.

He shouted, "I don't give a toss for that money!"

"It was a sort of a joke, but I do give a toss for the money," she said lightly. She stood up and began to push him toward the door. "Fine, fine, fine. Go outside, and let's start our date over again. You're right, we can't start it all angry with each other. I won't mention money or employment contracts, and you won't mention reneging on employment contracts or empty sex."

He held onto the doorjamb of the open door as she continued to try to push on his shoulders. "Wait a second, Granger. You'll get the money, and plenty of empty sex, but you'll also stay, right?"

"We'll see," she replied. "I can't promise anything. I don't know what the future holds. I only know that right now, you're making me late for a very important date. Now go outside and knock on the door and tell me how fabulous you think I look."

"I changed my mind. You don't look that fab," he snorted, turning around.

"Liar!" She slammed the door so hard and quickly that it hit him on the bum.

He was still rubbing his backside when Harry walked down the hallway with Jeff in tow.

"Why did Hermione call you a liar?" Harry asked, his hand on Jeff's shoulder.

"Probably because I'm a liar," Draco replied. "It's about time you brought the kid back from Big Foot's house. I was half afraid that Jolly Hairy Giant might eat the poor lad," Draco joked to Harry as he winked at Jeff. Then to the boy he asked, "Did you have a good time at Giantville? Did you play on any of the rides? Please tell me you didn't touch anything, especially his beard. You never know what might be growing in there. You should go get a shower before dinner at Hogwarts. Go get deloused, too."

Jeff smiled, but ran to his room across the hall.

Draco looked up at Harry with a smirk. Harry didn't look amused. "What, Potter? Don't tell me that when you were young, you never worried about what things might be growing in Hagrid's beard. I know you must have. Everyone worried about that."

"I have nothing to say to that remark," Harry remarked. "Is Hermione in her room?"

"She's in OUR room, where we had SEX earlier and where we'll have SEX again later, in many positions, by the way," Draco responded lazily, leaning against the wall, his legs crossed at the ankles, looking at his nails.

"Well, tell her that I'm heading back to London now, so I won't be joining the children at Hogwarts for dinner with the Professors, after all. Something's important has come up, so your father will have to chaperon them by himself." Harry turned to leave.

Draco glared at him for a moment then called out. "Potter!"

Harry didn't stop. He turned a corner and started down the stairs. Draco caught up with him. "Potter, stop!"

"What?" Harry asked, abruptly.

"I thought you were going to examine Jeff," Draco retorted.

"And I thought I wasn't needed," Harry countered. "I remember your father telling me he could examine Jeff just as easily as I could. I also recall McGonagall saying he was too tired today, so it should wait. Was all of that lies, or the truth?"

"What are you going on about? Of course that was the truth, which means you'll be back tomorrow to examine him, right?" Draco asked, expectantly.

"No," Harry responded quickly, walking down the stairs.

Draco watched until Harry was at the front doors, and then he ran all the way down the stairs, and to the doors to stop him. "Scarhead, wait!"

"Why?" Harry barked. "You haven't been truthful about some things, have you, Malfoy?"

"How is that pertinent to your examining Jeff?" he asked back, confused. "And for your information, I haven't been truthful about many, many things, but again, and I very rarely am, but I don't see how that's important."

Harry shook his head in annoyance, walked from the front doors into anteroom room off the lobby. Draco followed. Once inside the empty room, Harry said, "If you'd been truthful about some things in the beginning, it would've been easier to have known what we were up against with Jeff, that's all I'm saying, but no, as usually, Draco Malfoy had to have secrets and lies."

Hermione had come out of her room to see what was taking Draco so long to knock on the door for their date. Just as she opened the door, she saw Draco run down the corridor, calling Harry's name. Curious, she followed.

Now she stood outside the anteroom off the lobby, outside the partially opened door, listening to the men converse.

Harry said, "If you'd been truthful about some things in the beginning, it would've been easier to have known what we were up against with Jeff, that's all I'm saying, but no, as usually, Draco Malfoy had to have secrets and lies."

Draco sighed, sat on a small settee and said, "Just tell me to what you're referring."

"I know who Marie and Jeff's mother is," Harry responded.

That bold statement made Draco sit up straight, and it made Hermione place a hand over her mouth so she wouldn't gasp aloud.

Draco decided to continue his charade, incase Potter was trying to worm information from him. "She was a Muggle named Mary something or other. She disappeared the same day Charles was killed. The Muggle authorities think she probably either ran off or killed herself. She had no relatives. As far as anyone knows, Jeff and Marie are orphans, wards of the state, and I was appointed their guardian, by the Muggle authorities and by Wizarding law, being the godfather."

Hermione waited anxiously for Harry to say something. She knew she wanted to say something. Finally, Harry delivered, when he said, "What a bunch of tripe! Try again, Malfoy. "

"What?" Draco said, standing from the settee. "It's the complete and unadulterated truth!"

"Let's try it again, Malfoy, but this is your last try!" Harry fumed. "Does the name Tracey Davis ring a bell?"

"No, why should it?" Draco asked back with sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Is he a former boyfriend of yours?"

"Not a he, but a she, a certain half-blood who was in Slytherin during our first year. She would have been a third year student at that time, and she disappeared from school that same year, shortly after it began. Seems there were some problems at home, something about her Muggle mother being killed by her pureblood father. The father was sent to Azkaban, and later became a Death Eater, who escaped when Voldemort returned. After she left school, she was raised by her mother's Muggle family, and was forced to renounce her magic."

Hermione stood outside in the hallway, shocked at everything Harry was telling Draco.

"Alright, Potter, how did you know all of this? How did you find out?" Draco spat.

"I came here two days ago, in preparation for my meeting with Jeff. I went to see Hagrid, had a spot of tea with him, and thought I'd tell him what I was up against. I told him Hermione wanted me to examine your ward, that he couldn't speak, and while some, like Goldstein, thought it was traumatic muteness, Hermione thought it was the result of a dark curse or spell."

"And low and behold, he told me a similar thing happened to a little girl named Tracey Davis when she was just a bit older than Jeff. She witnessed her father kill her mother, and afterwards, she couldn't speak for almost two years. The Ministry examined her in the beginning, but finally, her Muggle grandparents wouldn't let them, or the Healers, examine her any longer. She left the magical world, and no one ever saw her or heard from her again, such as it was."

Draco felt all the blood rush from his head. He sat back down before he fainted. "What made you assume this little girl had anything to do with Jeff?"

"You mean, what made me realize that Tracey Davis was Jeff and Marie's mother?" Harry asked sharply. "Years of instinct on such things. Coincidences like this don't happen every day, Malfoy. Also, Hagrid got a picture of Tracey Davis as a child, from Hogwarts' records, and I compared them with known pictures from the Muggle known as Mary Essex, the children's mother. It didn't take a genius to know they were the same person, taken years apart."

Draco nodded. "Jeff recognized a picture of his mother in the Quidditch store, with the Slytherin team, when she was a third year, when he was in there with my father."

"Why the lies, Malfoy? Are you protecting the children from her, or from her father's family, or what?" Harry asked.

Hermione wanted to know the answers to that question as well, but before Draco could answer, Lucius walked up behind Hermione, tapped her on the shoulder, which made her suck in her breath, turn toward him, and gasp loudly.

"Oh, Mr. Malfoy, you scared me!" she admitted in a whisper, her hand over her heart.

"I've been waiting for you to admit as much most of my life," Lucius drawled. "Why are you eavesdropping outside this door? I assume that's what you're doing, isn't it? You are eavesdropping, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am, and Draco's just getting to the good part, so be quiet and let me listen," she begged, placing a hand on his sleeve. She pulled him toward the wall, placed a finger over her mouth to motion that he needed to be quiet, and then she leaned back toward the opened doorway to listen.

But by then, Draco and Harry's conversation was apparently over, because nothing else was being said. "I don't hear anything important," Lucius said.

"Well they were saying good stuff before you came!" Hermione said, annoyed, then she slapped his chest hard. Lucius walked up to the door, closed it, not caring if the men inside wondered why, then he took Hermione's sleeve in his grasp and he ushered her toward the large, opened lobby.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked.

"I think it's time we had a talk," he explained.

"Oh for goodness sakes, can't this wait?" she asked, irritated, hands on her hips, pulling her arm from his hand.

He gleamed, "No, it can't wait. I want to know what your intentions are toward my son."

Hermione snorted and said, "That's rich. Are you serious? Do you want to know if I intend to make an honest man out of him, because I have to tell you, it's too late for that, because I don't think Draco knows the meaning of the word 'honest'?" She crossed her arms over her expanding belly and tapped her toes on the floor.

Lucius continued to glare at her and he said, "As that's probably true, I meant your intentions as far as that baby is concerned. He's already raising two of Charles Warrington's children, so I guess what I'm asking is, do you intend for him to raise another one?"

That question shocked Hermione to her core. "I'm totally gobsmacked that you would ask me that question!"

"I don't know that word," Lucius admitted, narrowing his gaze, "but it sounds completely mundane and Muggle, and hardly answers my question, young lady."

"Why don't you ask Draco who Tracey Davis is first, and when he answers that question for you, then I'll answer your question, okay?" she snapped. Flying out of the lobby, she ran past Harry, who was walking out of the small anteroom, and then past Draco, who was on his way up the stairs, to find her.

Draco stopped on the stairs and called after her, "Hermione? Where are you going?"

She turned on the stairs and said, "I'm telling the children goodbye and then I'm leaving. My job's over and done. I'll expect payment by Tuesday, at the latest. Goodbye, Draco Malfoy. Goodbye, Lucius Malfoy, and even Goodbye, Harry Potter. All three of you liars may rot in hell."

The three men stood at the bottom of the stairs. Draco elbowed Harry and said, "At least she included you in that sentiment, Potter. That warms my heart a little bit."

Harry turned his head to give Draco a chiding look, but Draco added, "I meant to say that gives me hope that she doesn't totally hate me, because she could never truly hate you."

Harry pointed his thumb at Draco's father. "She included this one in her statement, too, don't forget."

Draco made a funny face and said, "Gads, she might never forgive me after all. I have to go after her."

Lucius threw his hand out and caught his son's arm. "Not yet, son. Don't you think she'll be safer this way. I wanted her to leave. Now we can concentrate on finding the children's mother, and on finding who cursed Jeffrey. Once the children are safely at school, and all is well with them, then you can go after Miss Granger, and make her see that some lies are good lies."

Harry spat dubiously, "Some lies are good lies?"

"I'm glad we finally agree on something, Potter," Lucius said with a malicious smile. He walked up the stairs, his robes billowing behind him.

Harry shook his head in disgust.

Draco sat on the stairs and sighed.

* * *

_*Tracey Davis was another obscure Slytherin. Sorry the long wait on this. Back to work, and once again, my store is being remodeled. It's the joys of being the Corporate Store (I mean that sincerely.) I'll try to do at least a chapter a week until it's finished. _


	26. Chapter 26

All characters belong to JK Rowling

**Chapter 26 – Two Weeks Later, Seems Like Forever (Since I Posted a Chapter)**

Sitting on a bench outside an office at the Ministry of Magic, moving her foot back and forth along the smooth, dark granite tiles, Hermione brought her right hand up to her ribcage and held it there for a moment. She felt a small twinge of pain. It was probably gas. Ever since she entered her second trimester, she had been plagued with gas. Vomiting plagued her first trimester and now gas plagued her second. She didn't want to think about what lovely body function would be explored during her third.

Bringing her foot back under the bench, she knew she made a small sound of pain as she held her hand under her stomach. She also knew she 'looked' pregnant today. Suddenly, at 20 weeks pregnant, she could no longer hide it, nor did she want to, nor did she try.

While waiting for her appointment, she slipped her hand back inside her purse for Marie's letter. She didn't have time to read it again, but even looking at the envelope brought the contents of the letter back to her full force. Two weeks ago, she left Draco and the children at Hogsmeade and she hadn't seen them since, yet so much had happened since then.

For one thing, the very night she left, Marie had her sorting - Slytherin, as if there were any doubts. Draco and Lucius must have been so proud. Frankly, Hermione was proud as well and not very surprised. The start of school was still ten days away, so Jeff would have to wait until then to find out his house. Marie wrote that Jeff didn't want to be sorted into Slytherin, although he hadn't revealed that to their godfather. He wanted to be in Gryffindor. That made Hermione proud, too.

Hermione smiled, folding the envelope and sticking it back into her purse. She would love to see the expression on Draco's face if, and when, Jeff was sorted into Gryffindor, not that she would probably get that honour.

Marie also wrote that on the 22nd of August, they were going to Diagon Alley to buy all of their school supplies and she desperately wanted Hermione to meet them there to help. When Hermione left Hogsmeade two weeks ago, she told the children goodbye, and left them on good terms. She told them they could write to her whenever they wished. She also told them if they needed her, all they had to do was let her know and she'd be there.

However, she rather doubted they NEEDED her to help them buy their school supplies. They could do that on their own, or rather, with Draco.

Thinking of Draco made Hermione sad. Marie hadn't even mentioned him once in her letter.

Next, she pulled out an envelope from Jeff, while quickly looking at the door of the office where she was waiting for her appointment. She opened the envelope that she had just received this morning and inside, instead of a letter, was one of Jeff's intricate drawings. Seeing it made Hermione's insides hurt. She felt her heart squeeze together tightly. It was an elaborate drawing of a Quidditch game, probably one in which Harry supposedly had taken Jeff to see the weekend before, because Hermione could make out a little Harry and a little Jeff in the crowd.

With a tear in her eye she fold the paper and stuck it back in the envelope, just as the man she was to meet opened the door to his office. She stood while still pushing the envelope back into her purse.

"Granger?" the man said, somewhat surprised, somewhat reserved. "I wasn't aware we had an appointment today, yet my assistant said you were waiting to see me, and that you told him you wouldn't leave unless you spoke with me. How may I assist you?"

The handsome man looked down at her expanding stomach, raised one dark eyebrow, and then smiled at her.

"I don't need help with this," she said with a rueful smile of her own.

He laughed. "Damn. I was rather hoping you did. It might be fun to help you with that. Fine, come into my office." He held his door open wide and watched as she stepped through.

She sat down on the small couch away from his desk, so he sat next to her, instead of at his desk, and then he waited for her to explain her presence at his office. She took several deep breaths, and then placed a hand on the lower portion of her stomach.

He eyed her carefully and asked, "How far along are you, because I have to say, you don't look to be very large yet, but if you're having pain of some sort, St. Mungo's is in another part of London. I can't help you with your pregnancy, as I'm not close to being a Healer. I'm an Unspeakable and you're on level nine of the Ministry, in the Department of Mysteries, don't you know?" He smiled at her again, but only because he was trying to figure out why she was there, and he hadn't thus far, although he had a clue.

"I know that, Adrian Pucey," she said with a sigh. "Marcus Flint said you might be able to help me."

He frowned at that. "Why would Marcus Flint think that I could help you with anything?"

She started to speak when he raised his hand to stop her. "Let me rephrase that question…Why would you lower yourself to even speak to Marcus Flint?"

She laughed at that. She laughed a true, hardy laugh, to which he smiled again, and then she laughed harder, covering her face with her hands, then she started to cry. With his laughter gone, his mouth now a firm line, he stood from the couch, walked over to the door and locked it with a wave of his hand.

He sat back down and said, "Spill it, Granger, and take all the time you need. If your explanation takes too long, I'll simply go over into the time room, grab a time turner, and turn back time."

She stopped crying at that, wiped her face and finally said, "If only you could really turn back time, Adrian. Tell me something, how well did you know Charles Warrington?"

"Ah, so that's what this is about." He shook his head several times and sat back slightly on the small sofa. "We were of an age…Flint, Wood, Warrington and I. And we were all Slytherins, of course, and all purebloods, so I'm sure we were all related, in some way or another. His family was old, not as old as the Malfoys but then, besides the Potters and the Blacks, few families were that old, but the Warringtons were still an old lot."

"I never really heard much about his family, or him, when I was younger," Hermione admitted.

"You wouldn't have," he returned, "you being the little Muggle-born that you were, and they mostly died out with the war. You see, only Malfoy and Warrington became true Death Eater out of our group of rag tags, like their dear old dads. It's one thing for Fathers to preach such a thing to their sons, like Flint's father did, or my dear old dad, but it's another thing to really want to bring your son into that sort of life, to bring him into the evil fold. Not many would want that kind of life for their sons, not if you really loved them. Lucius had no choice in the matter, and I suppose old Charles number two had his reasons…I wouldn't know, but it was hard on their sons, I do know that."

"And that's why he left magic, after the war?" Hermione asked.

"After his sentence was commuted, yes," Adrian admitted. "Why are you asking all of this of me? Flint knows all of this. He was a closer friend to Warrington. I wasn't that close to him. Hell, Oliver Wood was a better friend in recent years to him, or better yet, I heard you were working with Malfoy, teaching Warrington's children. Couldn't you ask this of Malfoy?"

"Malfoy would probably only lie to me some more," she said flippantly.

He smiled in acknowledgment, nodded, and said, "He does have that nasty habit, doesn't he. Speaking of Draco, he's not the father is he?" He pointed toward her stomach.

Hermione knew she had blushed scarlet. She assumed he knew Charles was the father, but then she realized that there was no reason for him to know that, even if he was an Unspeakable. Shaking her head no, she forged on while saying, "I was pregnant before I went to work for Malfoy."

"Why are you asking questions about Warrington?" Adrian scratched the side of his face as he peered at her, waiting for her response.

"I grew very close to the children while I taught them," she answered, not sure how much to reveal to this man, but also sure that he could easily find out everything he would want to know if he so desired. "The boy, Jeff, doesn't speak."

"He's mute?"

"No. He just doesn't speak."

"At all?"

"That's generally what, 'doesn't speak' means," she answered, though not sarcastically. "I wanted to try to find out why, so I had Anthony Goldstein examine him."

Adrian stood from the sofa and walked around to his desk. Opening a drawer, he drew out something, though Hermione couldn't see what. Sticking something in his pocket, he asked, "Why in the world would you have Goldstein examine the boy?"

"He's an educational and clinical psychologist," she said as an answer.

"And your boyfriend?" Adrian added.

Hermione looked down sheepishly and hastily added, "Not any longer."

"Is he the father of your baby?"

"How is any of that pertinent?"

He sat on the edge of his desk, glared at her and said, "I'm not sure yet, but I bet it is."

"Well he's not."

"Potter?"

"NO!"

"You broke up with Weasley last March," he said, though he looked up toward the ceiling as he said it. "So it can't be his."

"What?" She stood up, outraged. "Did you investigate me?"

"Of course I did," he said, smiling. "Don't worry, you're cleaner than anyone I know, and I couldn't find a thing on you, although I did already know you were pregnant."

She huffed, hands on hips.

"Oh, come now, Granger, did you really think medical records were private from a person who worked in the Department of Mysteries?"

She huffed a second time.

"I even know why you're really here. You just haven't asked the question you want to know yet, and because of that, I had to see WHY you wanted to know WHAT you wanted to know, and the only reason I could come up with was the very thing that you just now revealed, that being, you care for Malfoy's godchildren."

She walked up to him, pointed her index finger on his chest, and said, "For once in my life, I'm not certain what you just said. However, what do I really want to know, Adrian Pucey?"

"You really want to know everything you can about a girl named Tracey Davis, who was in my class in school, was in Slytherin, was on the Quidditch team with us, and who suddenly disappeared from our world after her Death Eater father killed her Muggle-born mother. You want to know this, because you somehow feel her disappearance isn't what it appears. Yet, you aren't asking this of me merely because I knew her from school. You want to know because you think I might have more information for you than Flint, or Malfoy, or even Potter might have for you, because of my job, right?"

She made a small noise, almost like a moan, and held her hand to her side.

"Is that a yes, a no, or are you having pre-term labor?" he asked, slightly concerned.

"No, that's gas," she said truthfully, sitting back down. "It's also a yes."

He sat beside her again. "Again, you could have asked Malfoy these questions."

"He's taken great pains to hide these things from me, for some reason," Hermione revealed, rubbing her hand in small circles on her stomach. "Hey, Adrian?"

"Yes?"

"Since you seem to know everything else, you probably already know who the father of my baby is, right?" She clutched her hands tightly in her lap.

He brought one of his hands over to hold both of hers. "Of course I do. At least, I just figured it out," he replied. "I also know that not everything is a mystery, and I should know, because I deal with mysteries every day with my job." He gave her hands a pat and leaned back.

Turning to face him slightly, she asked, "What do you mean by that?"

He smiled at her again. "I mean that you shouldn't try to solve a mystery, when none exist. Malfoy lied about some things, but so did you. He didn't tell you the children's mother's name, but that's the extent of it. There's no big mystery there. Her grandparents changed her name when she came to live with them. They made her give up magic, because they felt magic killed their daughter, her mother. Malfoy knew all of this and didn't tell you, but that doesn't mean that Tracey lied about all of it, or that her death is marred in mystery."

He took a second, and then continued. "Furthermore, the Aurors investigated her disappearance, along with Charles' death. Potter wasn't a part of that, so he might not have known about it. Again, that doesn't mean there are any conspiracies there. The Aurors who investigated her disappearance are of the mindset that she probably killed herself, just like the Muggle authorities."

Hermione didn't want to dispute that, but there had to be more to it. "Okay, but what if…"

"No what ifs," he argued. "There were no signs of foul play, no signs of dark magic, and no signs of anything of the sort. She left a note saying that she didn't want to live, and she disappeared. No body was found, but that doesn't mean anything."

"But Jeff's inability to speak started that day!" Hermione stood up. "And it mirrors what happened to Tracey, also known as Mary Essex, the children's mother, when she was little."

Suddenly, Adrian looked confused. "Who told you that?"

"I overheard Harry tell Draco that, and Draco didn't dispute it. Apparently, the same thing happened to Tracey when she was a child, and her father killed her mother. She was rendered mute for two years after it happened. How? Why? And when did she start to speak again? Even if there's no conspiracy into her death, there might be a correlation into Jeff's sudden muteness, and a cure as well, as Tracy, or Mary rather, did start to talk again someday."

"Well, gee Granger, I think you might have thought of something that others haven't thought of, but then again, why colour me surprise?" He stood up, and replied, "Give me three days, and let me look into her file. I'll find out if the Ministry knew anything about Tracey's muteness, or when it was healed, and hopefully I'll have your answers for you."

Then he handed her something that he'd taken from his drawer moments earlier. "Here, this belonged to Charles. I won it from him in a poker game when we were chaps. Give it to your baby someday." He handed her a ring, with an emerald and onyx setting. His initials were on the side - **_CW. _**_**  
**_  
"Thank you, Adrian," Hermione said, taken aback, close to tears.

He shrugged. "You know, Potter should be able to get this information for you, too. This isn't the sort of thing I usually do in the course of my job."

"I've been sort of angry with him, because I felt he had been lying to me about some things, too," she responded, placing the ring on her thumb.

He seemed to like that answer, because he beamed from ear to ear. "You found out that he was lying, huh?"

"Yes."

"What was Potter lying about, I wonder?" Adrian tucked Hermione's hand into his arm and walked her to his door, which he opened with a mere wave of his hand.

"It doesn't matter," Hermione answered. "I think I was upset more at the fact that he and Draco were duplicitous with each other. I'm used to Draco lying, it's almost part of his charm, but I've never had Harry lie before, and never WITH Malfoy. It was…well, disheartening."

He dropped her hand, and touched his finger to her nose. "Just remember that you'll owe me now. Also remember what I told you, don't go looking to solve a mystery that isn't there."

"But even Draco's father acted as if there were some sort of danger regarding the children, or a secret behind their mother's disappearance," she mused, almost to herself, as she winced, another pain in her side, her hand at her waist. "And I don't think Harry would lie to me, unless there was some sort of danger involved."

Adrian's face was a composed mask at that comment, but it made him wonder all the same. He might do some additional 'digging' for information for Granger after all, but more than likely, Draco and his father were merely hiding Draco's small part in Charles' Warrington accident.

Therefore, he decided to give Hermione some information for free, in the guise of an innocent statement, because he was suddenly a bit angry on her behalf, and he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because he felt Malfoy got off to easily on everything, or maybe it was because he didn't want this woman to think there was some great mystery out there, some great danger out there lurking, when the only danger out there was Draco Malfoy.

"Listen, Potter might have decided to keep quiet about Draco's part in Charles' accident. I don't think Potter knew about it when it happened, because he wasn't the Auror who investigated it. Curiously, I don't think Potter knew about it until Malfoy told him right before you went to work for him. As I was told, Potter was sent by you to find out all he could on Charles Warrington, and of course, he found out he was dead, and then when he went to tell you, Malfoy caught him first, and told him not to tell you." Adrian walked Hermione out into the hall.

She stopped walking and looked up into his eyes, shocked.

"Malfoy couldn't have known you were pregnant yet, so he couldn't have wanted Potter to keep quiet about Warrington's death because of that, so all I can think is that he didn't want you to know about his part in the man's death, although really, Granger, it was an accident."

She continued to stare at him, surprised. "What? Draco had a part in Charles' death?" She began to shake all over, tears sprung to her eyes, and she clutched her hands to her stomach.

He immediately knew he'd said too much. He instantly knew that **she loved Draco,** _(finally something he didn't know before hand)_ and now he felt like such an arse, even if it was the truth. "I must get back to work, Dear Granger. I'll send you that information on Tracey Davis when I get it." Without another word of explanation, he hurried back into his office, closed the door, and then it inexplicably disappeared.

Hermione stared at the blank wall, where only moments before a door stood, and the words Adrian uttered mulled around her brain… "_Draco's part in Charles' accident_"and"Malfoy_ told Potter not to tell you_."

Hermione walked toward the lifts, rubbed her side, and aloud she said, "Oh, Draco Malfoy, what have you done now?"

When the doors opened, the very person she had just mentioned stood directly in front of her, and he seemed just as surprised to see her as she was to see him.


	27. Chapter 27

All characters belong to JK Rowling

**Chapter 27 – Draco Notice's the Ring, The Rub, and the Reason for the Truth**

The lift doors opened and in front of Hermione Granger stood the very person she had just mentioned – Draco Malfoy. He looked surprised to see her, and equally surprised to hear his name upon her lips. "I haven't done anything, Granger," he answered with a grim expression. "What are you doing on level nine?"

"I was seeing Adrian Pucey."

He almost groaned at that answer, for that was the answer that he feared the most. He didn't like Adrian Pucey and Adrian Pucey didn't really like him. Adrian Pucey would probably delight in causing problems for Draco, so he was on level nine to see the man as well. He wanted to warn him away from seeing Hermione, but apparently, he was too late. "Why did you see Pucey?" Draco looked down the hallway then back into her eyes.

"Why not?" Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she walked past him and moved to the back of the lifts.

"Why not indeed? What a stupid answer." He walked back on the lifts as well and waited until the doors closed to speak. "Listen, I don't care whom you see or why, but if you went to the man to get answers, just remember, the answers he gave you to questions might not be the answers you need."

Hermione made a funny face, held her side (it still hurt) and said, "Now it's my turn to say, what a stupid answer."

"Let's change the subject," Draco avowed, raising his brows. "The children have missed you. They cry their little eyes out every night, wondering what they've done wrong, and wondering why you'd leave them the way you did."

"You're insane," she said in even tones. "They know why I left. I told them goodbye at the Inn. My job was over. I said goodbye to them, and I even got a letter from Jeff today, although it was really a drawing, not a letter. I received a letter from Marie a couple of days ago, and there was no mentioning of their eyeballs hanging out of their sockets from copious amounts of tears having been shed for me."

"Well I hardly meant literally, Granger," he bit back, sarcastically. The lift jerked to a stop on the main floor of the Ministry, near the Atrium, and Hermione exited, followed by Draco.

He grabbed her arm, but she pulled it from his hand. He held on, holding it until his hand slid from her forearm, to her elbow, to her bare wrist below her jacket to her hand. He felt the ring on her thumb, held her hand up to his face, examined it, and then dropped her hand as if he had been burnt. "Who gave that to you?"

"What?" Genuinely bewildered by his query.

Picking her hand back up in his, holding it tighter than he should, and with malevolence mixed with equal part fear, he asked again, "Who gave you this ring?"

"Adrian. He said he won it from Charles playing poker and that I should give it to my child someday. Goodness knows my child won't have anything else of its father." Pulling her hand from his tight grip, she asked, "Why are you here?"

"I'm looking for you." That was part lie and part truth. "I was told by Flint that you were coming to see Pucey today, so I took a chance you'd still be here." That was the whole truth. She started to walk away, so Draco walked faster to catch up with her, finally pulling on her arm to turn her around. "Stop a moment, Granger, please, stop."

"What do you want?" She threw her hands up in the air. "What, Malfoy, what?"

"Why are you so upset?" he said in a soft tone, aware there were many people around them. He took her arm and pulled her to the side.

"I was upset, no, am upset, because you lied again to me, and because, well, because I got closer to those children than I meant to, and because I probably never mourned Charles, even though sometimes I wonder if I had a right to mourn him." She fought back tears.

"Why shouldn't you mourn him?" He rubbed his hand in circles on her back and ushered her toward a fountain in the middle of the large atrium.

She explained, "What right did I have? If you examine it, I hardly knew the man. Because I fell in love with you so soon after I claimed to have loved him and it was almost too easy to forget him, and of course it was, because I hardly knew him, so did I really love him, or was that an easy way of explaining becoming pregnant."

"Come again," he said, seriously.

"Just shut up!" Hermione pushed him and tried to walk away, but he pulled her toward him.

"Wait a moment, I'm trying to digest all the things you're saying to me, but it doesn't make a great deal of sense," Draco joked.

"Malfoy, please, I'm having a pain," Hermione said, holding her side.

"I know, and his name is Draco Malfoy, right?" Draco said seriously.

"No, his name is flatulence," Hermione said just as seriously, her hand on the side of her belly.

Draco smiled and said, "Some people say flatulence and Potter are the same, but now you say Malfoy and flatulence are the same. I think I'm offended."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm having a true pain, along with an epiphany that I might not have been in love with Charles, but in lust, or in adoration, and you want to talk about gas. Please, leave me alone. Because the truth of it all is that no matter what I felt or didn't feel with Charles - that's in the past.

"The present is that I'm also upset because of your lies, and because I didn't particularly want to fall in love with you. I thought it belittled what I thought I felt for Charles, because after all, who really falls in love after one date, and I was questioning whether or not I really loved him or not, if I fell in love with you so easily after supposedly loving him, but now I see none of this matters."

"Why doesn't it matter, Miss Gas?" he asked while making a face.

She moved back over to the fountain and sat down on the edge. Following, he sat down beside her.

"It doesn't matter, because none of those things are as important as your lies," she said upon a sigh.

Though he knew what she meant, acting as if he didn't, he asked, "My lies are important?"

"Draco Malfoy, don't be obtuse," she warned, moving so she faced him on the ledge of the fountain. "I don't even care about some of the lies at this point. I don't care that you knew Charles Warrington and Ian Charles Ellington were the same person. I don't care that you knew Tracey Davis and Mary Essex were the same person. I don't care if you know what happened to her, either, or even if you asked Harry Potter, my best friend in the world, to lie to me about it all."

Draco gave her a stranger look…as if…'who is this woman'.

Standing, she continued, "I don't even care that you made me come and teach those children under false pretenses, knowing I would fall in love with them, knowing even that I might fall in love with you, because lying is all you've ever known. BUT, what I do care about, Malfoy, is that you might have lied about HOW Charles died, and you MIGHT have asked my best friend to lie about that as well. So right now, I'm going to give you one last chance for redemption."

Draco's heart was pounding so hard in his chest that he could 'feel' it throughout his entire body, hear it in his ears, and feel it in his toes. He stood to face her. What the hell had Adrian Pucey told her? He remained quiet and waited.

She asked, "You said that Charles made you promise two things on his deathbed, and one of them was that you would take care of his children, no matter what. You also alluded to the fact that part of that same promise, or promise number one, dealt with me. Was that part of the same promise?"

Draco felt numb, but he nodded and said, "He made me promise that I would take care of you, too, and make you happy, and help you to see that life could be fun, and that not everything was serious and somber all the time. Yet, I didn't want you to think that my only interest in you was because of my promise to him, so I didn't tell you that part."

Hermione shook her head slightly. "Even if Charles already had feelings for me, why would he care if YOU took care of me? Why would he exact a promise from you that had to do with me? Why would he make YOU make a promise that had to do with making ME happy - that had to do with me living life to the fullest, having fun, and so forth - that doesn't make sense?"

Draco swallowed hard and the truth almost tumbled out. It was truly on his tongue. He almost said…_**because he knew that I had always loved you myself**_. Nevertheless, Draco didn't tell her the truth. He lied again by saying, "I don't know."

"Was that the second part of the promise?" she asked carefully, wondering if Adrian was wrong when he said that Draco had something to do with Charles' accident.

Draco expression paled, and he sat back down on the fountain's edge. Licking his dry lips, he said, "No, that was all still the first promise. I told you I'd tell you the second promise someday, but I don't want to tell you that yet."

"Too bad. That day's come, Malfoy, tell me now," she begged, placing one hand on his shoulder, looking down at his sober expression.

With his gaze on her rounded belly, he shook his head no. How could he tell her that? He'd already told her so many lies, and he couldn't even recall why he had lied about some of the things he'd lied about, but this one thing, he'd lied about it and now if he told her the truth she'd hate him forever. She would. He knew he did.

Even if it was a little thing at the time, it had now snowballed into a big thing and he couldn't take the chance that it would bury them.

"Tell me, Malfoy," she said with more authority, her hand squeezing his shoulder harder.

Taking three steady, long breaths, Draco revealed, "I won't tell you the second part of the promise yet. I just won't."

Hermione frowned. "Then tell me why Adrian said you had something to do with Charles' death."

Draco didn't want to tell her that either, but it was time. Shrugging her hand away from his shoulder, and without looking up in her eyes, he said, "He didn't lie to you when he said he couldn't drive. He couldn't, and was going to Apparate back to the hotel to be with you, but he had a big row with the children's mother, when he told her that he had fallen in love with someone."

Hermione placed her hand back on his shoulder, her grip tightening to the point of pain, but he didn't care. He looked up into her brown eyes. The pain she caused him gave him courage to continue. "He called me. It was so bloody early. Only a bit after five in the morning, or something insane. Why couldn't he have waited to tell Tracey later that he was leaving her, that's what I want to know?"

He shrugged her hand from his shoulder again and stood. Without raising his voice, so not to cause a scene in the busy lobby, he continued. "But he always had to have things when he wanted it, how he wanted it, no matter what. He couldn't wait to tell Tracey that he was in love with you. He went to her house to tell her and she became inconsolable. Even though they weren't a couple any longer, she still loved him. She wouldn't accept it. She threatened to take away the children. She told him he'd never see them again."

Hermione felt herself holding back tears, holding her stomach, and holding onto her last thread of hope that Draco wasn't going to tell her anymore, even if she really wanted him to continue.

"He called me. He knew I had a car and he asked me to pick up the children and him at Tracey's house, because the children couldn't Disapparate. When I got there, Tracey was already gone. She'd torn the entire house to pieces. Little Marie was crying so hard, and Jeff was already scared and sobbing.

"Charles protected the children the best he could, but they'd already seen and heard so much during their parents' fight, that it wasn't a pretty sight." Draco took several deep breaths, rubbed the flat of his hand over his face, and struggled to continue. "Then we fought."

"You fought?" she whispered, although she heard him.

Nodding, he said, "We fought. Almost physically, brutally, we even drew wands, right outside the house, with the children inside my car." He paced back and forth in front of her, accidentally knocking into a witch. He apologized to the woman, then took Hermione's hand and pulled her to the Floos.

She didn't ask where they were going. They ended up at his house in Scotland. She looked around, and he said, "The children aren't here. My father and mother took them to the village today."

Not willing to wait for more lies, or for time, she said, "Tell me the rest of it."

Removing his jacket, he threw it on the floor in anger. "We fought. All the things I told you he said about you were true. He said he thought he loved you. He said he fell in love with you after one date together. He called you an angel, the best thing ever to happen to him. I told him he was mad! He couldn't love you so quickly. He wasn't good enough for you! He acknowledged that as well, didn't care for once, and said that just because I was never going to go after you, didn't mean that he wasn't going to seek happiness!"

"You'd discussed me before?"

"Yes," he bit back, moving to look out the window. She moved behind him.

When he seemed reluctant to continue, she placed a hand on his arm. "Please, Draco, I just want to understand."

"I goaded him. I told him that if there was one thing Hermione Granger hated, it was liars and frauds, and that you'd probably hate him for lying to you, so he'd better tell you about the children and Tracey and everything right away. Frankly, I was at my wits-end. I would have said anything to him, because I was jealous of him. My best friend in the world, and I was jealous of him, because he finally had the one thing I always wanted more than anything…" he turned, "you."

Hermione stepped back slightly. "How did he die in the car if he really didn't know how to drive?"

"Granger, take your own advice and stop being so damn obtuse," he accused. "He wasn't driving. I was. I was still angry with him, but he asked me to drive him back to the effing inn."

"Why didn't he Disapparate?" she asked.

Throwing his arms in the air, he replied, "Because of the children, sweetheart!"

"What do the children have to do with it?" she asked, still perplexed, and trying hard to understand. Grabbing his arm with both hands, she pulled on it hard and begged, "Explain it to me, Draco Malfoy!"

"We had the children with us! I had basically just told him that to keep you, he had to tell you about them. Also, he didn't know where Tracey, whatever you want to call her, went, so he had the children with him. They were too young to Apparate, and they were already upset from waking up to a massive row between their parents, their mother storming off, and then their godfather, whom they'd only met a few times, and their father fighting. They were in shock! So he was taking them back to the Inn to meet you on my advice, so there wouldn't be anymore lies between you! They were in the backseat! I was driving, and Charles was in the passenger seat!"

Hermione sucked in a breath. "And the narrow, winding road where Charles crashed?"

"I crashed on the narrow, winding road." Draco sat on a chair and hung his head. "Tore my little black sports car to pieces. We were all taken to a Muggle hospital. I wasn't even hurt, except for a scratch on my head. I had Charles transported to St. Mungo's. The children were left at the Muggle hospital, because they weren't hurt very badly. Marie doesn't remember the accident to this day."

Hermione felt compassion for Draco, not anger, which surprised even her. She sat beside him, placed a hand on his arm and asked, "And Jeff?"

"He remembers it."

"Is that when he stopped talking?"

Draco nodded.

"So it is…his muteness…is traumatic?"

He shook his head no.

Hermione felt overwhelmed, confused, and the pain in her side, which earlier she was convinced was gas, was stronger. "Then what is it?"

"Did Adrian Pucey tell you what happened to Jeff's mum when she was a little girl? The reason she wasn't able to speak for two years after she witnessed her father kill her mother?" Draco asked, moving to his knees on the floor in front of her, grasping both her hands in his.

"Adrian didn't tell me anything. He told me not to look for a mystery that wasn't there…wait, maybe he meant there wasn't a mystery regarding her death. What happened to her to cause her not to speak when she was a child, Malfoy?"

Releasing her hands, he rubbed his temples, stood, and said, "Ah, Granger, you'll hate me forever if I tell you."

"Draco Malfoy," she began, still sitting, "If I don't hate you already, and believe me, you've given me ample reasons to hate you during our lives – during the last few months – during the last few minutes – then I'm sure I won't hate you for finally telling me the truth. What does all of this have to do with Jeff's inability to speak?"

"It has everything to do with it, and with the last thing Charles made me promise when he was dying," Draco revealed, sitting back down on a chair, his head back, his eyes closed.

Hermione walked up to him to demand answers, when suddenly, an intense pain hit her and she doubled over, her hand reaching out for his knee. "Oh!"

Draco looked up, saw the pain on her face, her hand on her stomach, and without another thought, took her arm in his hand and Disapparated away.

* * *

_A/N - I know, it's all a bit convoluted, but that was always my intention with this story. Only three more chapters to go!_


	28. Chapter 28

All characters belong to JK Rowling

**Chapter 28 – Fools Rush In Where Draco Dare to Tread**

"Where is she?" Harry asked calmly, walking toward Draco as he sat on a bench outside a room at St. Mungo's.

Draco cocked his head to the side and said, "In there, obviously. She told me she was having gas pains, but the pain kept getting worse, so I brought her here, to see a healer."

"It's too early for labour pains," Harry pointed out, sitting on the other end of the bench.

"Yes, too early," Draco agreed. "She's only twenty weeks pregnant."

"Why was she with you?" Potter asked. "I thought she gave you up, like a bad habit."

"Funny, Potter. I wish I could give you up, but like everything else bad in my life, you'd probably come back to me, only be ten times worse, or in your case, ten times holier than thou."

"Shove it, you blighter. Where was she when she first got this pain, anyway?"

"She was at the Ministry, talking with a certain arsehole, also known as an Unspeakable, whom we both know. She went there to get some answers, because she wasn't content to let things alone," Draco answered evasively.

Harry regarded him quietly, and then asked, "What were you doing there?"

"I was there to see you, because I missed you so much," Draco said with a serious expression. After a few seconds he said, "Just suffice it to say that I saw her there." He wasn't about to tell Potter that he went there to see the same person, probably for the same reason, (to ask questions regarding Jeff's muteness) but also with the hope that she might be there.

Harry stood and began to pace. "Off the subject, I enjoyed my time with Jeff the other day at the Muggle car show. Thanks for letting him go with me."

Draco shrugged. "For some odd reason, the kid likes you. He doesn't have very refined taste yet. I hope he grows out it." Draco smirked as Harry snorted. Draco added, "Do you have any clues yet, how to reverse the curse on the kid?"

"Not so far, but I'm still working on it. Have you told Hermione about our theory regarding Jeff's problem?"

Draco almost growled. He hated to be reminded about Jeff's problem and the possible reason for it. "I was about to do just that when the pain got worse, so I brought her here instead."

Harry frowned. "Tell her soon, Malfoy, or I will."

"Yes, Master," Draco supplied sarcastically. "Although you know, we only just came to the conclusion about the kid within the last few weeks. It's not as if we've been withholding information from her."

A healer walked out of the room at that moment. Harry walked over to the woman, and Draco stood and joined them. "Are you both with Ms. Granger?"

"I'm her best friend and that's the bane of her existence," Harry said, pointing toward Draco.

Draco knocked Harry's hand away and the woman frowned in confusion. Draco clarified, "Yes, we're with her. Is she going to be okay? And the baby? Please tell me that the baby's alright."

"Both fine, although I'm keeping her overnight to be sure. She'd like to see the bane of her existence for a few moments." The woman smiled at Draco and then held the door opened for him.

He gave Harry a cocky smile and walked into the room.

She lay upon a large bed with white linens and pillows, looking so small and helpless. He felt like a cad, and he didn't even know why. It wasn't his fault that she was here, yet he felt that it was. He knew if he walked further into the room, she'd want the rest of 'the story' about Charles, and he wasn't ready to explain everything, although he would if she asked it of him. She deserved to know the truth.

Possibly, he could divert her attention to something else. He was good at that sort of thing. Walking into the room, he immediately sat upon the side of her bed. He took her hand, and when her eyes turned to his, he said, "You best be out of here in a day or two, because we haven't but four days until the children are off to Hogwarts, and they still want you to come with us to get their books and things."

"I know," she said softly. "Tell them I'll try."

Raising her hand to his lips, he kissed it gently. Then, to his surprise, and without prompting from her, he said, "I'm ready to tell you the second thing Charles made me promise him as he lay dying, but I must make a few other things clear first."

Hermione gave him a surprised look, drawing her hand from his. Sitting up in the bed, she nodded, but said nothing.

He felt as astonished by his proclamation as she seemed. Perhaps it was seeing her HERE of all places, lying in a bed at St. Mungo's, which was the last place he'd seen Charles, that gave him the courage to tell her the rest of his confession. On the other hand, perchance it was merely TIME to tell her the TRUTH, (Ah…truth, what an ugly, five-letter word). Either way, still sitting on the side of the bed, feet flat on the floor, facing the wall, arms on his legs, head down, he began.

"I already told you most of the story at the Ministry, but let me recap. Charles and Tracey fought. He went to get the kids. He called me, because they were too young to Disapparate. We fought as well, over you, because I was jealous of him – because he got you first, and I was the one driving when we wrecked."

He stopped talking for about five minutes. Hermione didn't urge him onward, though she wanted to. Instead, she waited, and he finally found the courage to continue.

"So yeah, about that second promise. You see, it was early when Charles called me. Dawn hadn't broken, so the sky was still that eerie, blue colour. I don't know why I recall that, but it stands out clearly in my mind. I stood outside in the drive, by my car, while Charles packed the kids in the backseat. Tracey was screaming at him from the front door. Little Marie was already in the car, crying. Jeff was hanging half in the car, half out, in shock. Frankly, I'd never seen the kid so was quiet, sullen. Once, during the middle of it, he opened the backdoor of the car and ran back toward the front door, as his parents continued to stand in the doorway, fighting.

"I yelled for him to come back before someone called the Muggle police. Jeff continued toward the house – he left the car door open - and went running, screaming for his mum. I rushed up to him, grabbed him by his scrawny little shoulder, turned him toward me and shouted, 'Get your arse back in that car and don't you say another word, you stupid little rotter, before you get us all thrown into jail, or worse, Azkaban!'

"The poor little boy turned around, looked at me with tears in his big brown eyes, and ran back to the car. I slammed the door close with a bang."

Draco stood up, but still couldn't face her. He continued to face the wall. Leaning against the wall, using it for support, he continued. "The last word Jeff ever spoke, more of a scream really, and it was, 'Mummy', and I told him to shut it and to get back in the car. After that, Charles came back to the car, with Tracey following him, crying, and begging him not to take her children from her."

"Draco, wait," Hermione implored, moving her legs around so that she was sitting on the side of the bed. "I thought their mother disappeared. You told me she disappeared the night Charles died. You told me the day he died, he had just left her house, very early, and that the children were still sleeping. He told her he'd just met someone that he thought he might want to marry someday, and he wanted the children to move in with them, so they could know magic someday.

"You said their mother didn't take it well, because her mental health was fragile, and she disappeared right after he told her, and then the children woke up, and she was gone. You claim you went to tell them about their father being dead, and discovered that their mother was missing at that time."

"That's what you told me," she finished.

He whirled around to her and shouted, "Well I lied, didn't I, Granger? Haven't you heard a word of what I just said? Are you stuck on the whole thing about Charles taking the kids that you seriously didn't hear what I just said about Jeff?"

Hermione began to breathe very hard. She hadn't yet made a connection to Draco's story and Jeff's affliction. Instead, she accused, "Draco Malfoy – do you even know the meaning of the word 'truth'? Tell me the truth, right now! Which story is real? When you first wanted me to teach them you implied she was dead, then you implied she was missing! You even said that the Muggle authorities classified her as a missing person, now you're telling me that Charles and you took the children right out from under her nose! Does that mean she's still alive?"

"Is she alive, Draco? Is she looking for her children? Is that why your father is involved? Is he protecting you, because he knows that you shouldn't have the children?"

Draco sighed and turned back toward the wall. When Draco still hadn't answered her questions, or turned back around to face her, she asked the one question he was waiting for. Grasping, she asked, "Oh, Draco, are you responsible for Jeff's inability to speak? Did you accidentally curse him when you shouted at him to keep quiet, and now you don't know how to reverse it, and that's the reason you're keeping the children, because you're afraid you'll be in trouble or something?"

He turned to her, with a look of true horror on his face. His chest heaved, his right hand reached out blindly for her arm. "Granger, you can't possibly think that's true, do you? I wouldn't keep the children because I was afraid of being in trouble or something insane like that!" He didn't want her to think that, even if there was a morsel of truth in her allegation.

He explained, "According to my father, after Tracey Davis' father, a renown Death Eater, killed his wife, he turned to his crying daughter and said, _'Stop crying right now, and don't ever tell anyone what you saw, or you'll send me to Azkaban, do you hear?'_ After that, she stopped talking for two years. No one ever knew if he had cursed her, or if she had cursed herself, but the truth remained that it WAS a curse that caused her muteness, just as a it's probably a curse that's caused Jeff's, whether it's self-imposed, or brought on by me."

He dropped his arm and sank into a chair in the corner of the room. He brought his hands up to his face, covered it, and told her everything that his father had learned from Adrian Pucey regarding Tracey Davis' muteness years earlier. Although he didn't want to believe the same thing caused Jeff's muteness, he couldn't dispute that was the case.

Hermione felt compassion toward Draco, as well as anger. "Adrian Pucey should have told me the same thing when I went to him, but I guess he felt he would be betraying a sacred Slytherin trust or something. We'll get back to Jeff, and to the fact that you're probably wanted for kidnapping by the Muggle authorities, something I was worried about months ago. Tell me the second part of Charles' promise, Draco Malfoy."

Almost in a stupor, he continued his story. "Tracey ran to the side of the car. I had already started the motor. Charles got in and told me to leave. Tracey was begging Charles not to take her children. The children were huddled together in the backseat, but they weren't crying.

"We left Tracey and started toward the Inn. Once we were on the motorway, I began to bait him. I told him that Hermione Granger would want nothing to do with him if he lied to her. He said he had no intention of lying to you." Draco stood and began to pace, so Hermione sat back on the bed.

"I told him that by taking the children away from their mother, he was lying! He said that it was the first truthful thing he'd done in a long time, because they had a right to be raised in a magical home, with magical parents. I told him he was barking mad, because he'd just met you, and you wouldn't want to marry him that quickly. I also told him that if I knew one thing for certain, I knew that once you knew he took those children away from their mother, you would want him to return them.

"I told him that you wouldn't think it was a bad thing to be raised a Muggle, and you would have compassion for Tracey. I said he was starting everything wrong. He was crazy, insane, and stupid even.

"That's when he yelled back that I was just jealous. I told him that of course I was, but at least I wasn't a cruel bastard who took children away from their mother." At that, he stopped pacing he looked down at her face, into her eyes. He grabbed her hands. "And I'm not a bastard either. I swear, Tracey, or Mary, whatever you want to call her, is gone. I went back after the accident and she was gone. No one knows where, and I really do have custody of those children. Do you think St. Potter, the holier than most, saviour of our world, would let me keep them if I didn't? He knows all of this."

Hermione sighed. "The promise, Draco. Get to the promise."

Still holding her hands, he pulled her from the bed, and walked over to the chair in the corner, sitting down with her on his lap. Keeping his arms around her tightly, he said, "That's when we crashed. It all happened so fast. A curve in the road, going too fast, screaming at each other, then the crash. We went to a Muggle hospital first, and then I had him transferred here. As he lay dying, he made me promise to take care of the children as if they were my own, and to take care of you, because he knew I had feelings for you. He wanted you to be happy, and to have your dreams realized. He said you two talked a lot about your dreams and hopes for the future, and he wanted me to help them come true for you, so I said I would."

"And?" she prompted.

Draco waited, and then said, "Then he made me promise one other thing. He said, '_You were right about one thing, Malfoy. I shouldn't have lied to Hermione. I should have told her right off that I had children with Tracey, and that I was once a Death Eater. I should never have pretended to be something that I wasn't. Maybe if I had told her the truth from the beginning, I wouldn't have felt such a rush to get to the truth at the end, and Tracey and I wouldn't have fought, and the children wouldn't have suffered, and you and I wouldn't have fought, and we wouldn't have crashed.'_ Then he said, '_So don't make the same mistake I made, Draco old boy, don't lie to her. Start with the truth, from day one, and everything will be good to go_.' And then he died, just like that."

Hermione pushed away from his arms, stood up, and said, "Oh, Draco, but you didn't, did you? You lied from the very start, you poor, misguided man. Leave me now. Just leave."

He waited several beats of his heart to be sure that she really said 'leave' and when he was sure, he stood and said, "But I finally told you the truth. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"Yes, it means you were finally caught in so many lies that you had no way out but to finally tell me the truth, a truth that you promised your best friend, as he was dying, that you wouldn't lie to me, and then you proceeded to do nothing but lie to me. I don't even know what to do with that." Propping one hip on the bed, she fell boneless down on the bed, curled into a ball, and started to cry.

Draco left the room, wandered discontentedly down the hallway, drifting silently down one corridor to the next, and finally one thing become bitterly clear to him. He was a stupid, stupid man. Lying had always come so easy to him. It was like a second skin. He wore it as an armor. It protected him from harm, kept the wolves at bay, but for some reason, it always left a sour taste in his mouth, and made it hard to sleep at night, but at least he had the girl at the end of the day.

When finally, he found the courage to be truthful, all it did was make him feel sad and remarkably lonely, and he found he didn't like it much better than he liked lying.

Now what was he supposed to do?

(_Two more chapters to go!)_


	29. Chapter 29

All characters belong to JK Rowling

**Chapter 29 - It's Time**

Hermione wandered down the stairs at _The Granger School for the Gifted_, heading for her office, and she had one thought in her head.

**It was time. **

She couldn't pinpoint directly _what_ she thought it was time for, but the thought still kept floating around her brain all day long. _It was time, it was time, it was time_.

Perhaps she was merely mulling over the thought that it was time for the holiday break. Perhaps she was thinking it was time she finally start the baby's nursery, since it was due in two weeks. Perhaps the _'it was time'_ creed was something less concrete, and something more elusive.

Maybe she merely thought it was finally time she forgave Draco Malfoy. She should confess her love for him, tell him she couldn't live without him, and tell him that she wanted him to be a part of her and her baby's life. Then again, that last thought might have to do with the fact that she thought she just observed a familiar man walking through the large, double doors on the first floor.

Standing paralyzed on the stairs, she waited to see if the man was whom she thought he was, but then the final bell rang and a gaggle of children flew out of classrooms from all directions, signifying the last class before Christmas break. Ah…so that was what it was…_it was time for classes to be over_, that was all.

Hermione hung onto the balustrade with one hand, careful not to fall amongst the flurry of young men and women around her. She stood tall, straining to see down the stairs, but the man she spied earlier was gone. It probably wasn't him anyway. She hadn't seen him for almost four months, and the last time she saw him he told her he would never again seek her out. He made it clear that SHE would have to seek him.

She started back down the stairs when a young man ran down with her, shouting, "Have a happy Christmas holiday, Miss Granger!"

"Thank you, Nicholas, and happy holidays to you as well," she returned in kind. She watched the dark haired young man as he continued down the stairs, out the doorway.

Seeing him, she immediately thought of Jeff and Marie. Thinking of them and Draco and this time of year, felt incredibly consoling. She wondered what they had planned for Christmas. She knew what she had planned for Christmas – she planned to be alone. Her parents invited her to come over, as did her friends, but she wanted to be alone. It would be her last Christmas before her baby arrived, and she wanted it to herself.

She finished walking down the stairs and went straight toward her office.

"Hello, Hermione." Hermione saw her business partner's twin sister, Parvati Patil, as she entered her office. "My, but you look like you're ready to deliver that baby any day now."

"Not quite," she returned with a smile. "I still have a couple of weeks. I'm due the 14th of January, if I can wait that long."

"Do you know what you're having yet?" the former Gryffindor asked.

"No, I decided to be surprised. Everything else about this baby has surprised me, so why not let its gender surprised me, too?" Hermione smiled at her business partner's sister and sat down in her chair. "Are you meeting Padma?"

"Yes. We're going to our parents' for Christmas. It's the first time they're getting to meet Anthony. I hope there's no hard feeling on your part concerning him." Parvati sat on the couch across from Hermione's desk.

"Goodness, no." Hermione seemed genuinely shocked by that statement. "We only dated for two weeks and that was ages ago. I'm glad you two are dating, and Padma told me it's very serious, so congratulations."

The other woman nodded and smiled shyly. "It is. I love him. I'm hoping he'll ask me to marry him soon. I want to get married and have a family. It's all I've ever wanted. I'm not like Padma, or you. I'm not about a career and all. I want something more traditional. I don't think I could raise a child alone, like you're going to do. It's such a Hermione Granger thing to do, to have a child without a husband. Oh, there's Padma. I see her in the outer hall. Well, Happy Christmas, Hermione!"

The woman left Hermione's office in a dash, while Hermione's mouth was left agape in shock from her words. Her statements stung… '_I want something more traditional'… 'I want to get married and have a family'… 'I couldn't have a child without a husband'. _

Didn't she think Hermione wanted all of those things? Did she think Hermione planned to be thirty years old, unwed, and over eight months pregnant, and all alone, at Christmas time no less?

Hermione fought back tears as she straightened piles on her desk that didn't need straightened. When she was certain that the school was most likely empty, and her tears most certainly at bay, she finally stood and went to get her coat and purse from the hook by the door.

Walking along the long corridor toward the front doors, she stopped by a small classroom, the door of which was open. She was surprised anyone would still be in the school. Slipping inside the door, she spied a lone student sitting at a desk, a young professor sitting beside him. They were studying something quietly, and apparently, the student had done something correctly, because the teacher had her arm around his shoulders and she was praising him.

Hermione leaned against the doorway. "Hello there," Hermione said with a smile. "The final bell rang. Did you hear it?"

The student and the professor both looked up as she greeted them. "We heard it," the young professor said.

Hermione reminded them, "The holidays have begun, so why are you two still in here, working so diligently?"

"We were just finishing up, weren't we Jeff?" the other woman remarked.

Jeff smiled and nodded mutedly. Hermione stepped further into the room, toward the boy, stroked his fringe of bangs, and then looked down at the book. "What are you studying?"

He pushed the book toward her. "Ah…" she began, "Charms. One of my favourites to this day. I think I always loved Charms almost more than any other subject. I remember my first Charms class, we had to learn a hover charm, and Ron Weasley couldn't get the finer points of the spell, though the incantation was so very simple. I was the only one who could hover my feather in the air the first time."

Jeff continued to hold his smile. She asked the professor, "How's he doing?"

"He hasn't gotten it quite yet, but I have faith he will soon." She stood and added, "And with that, I think I'll wish you and my young charge the happiest of holidays, Miss Granger. Have a wonderful time off Jeff, and remember, try not to work too hard, because it is a holiday, after all." She squeezed his shoulder, glanced toward the corner, then walked out the door.

Hermione didn't notice the young woman's glance toward the corner. Instead, she placed her coat and purse on an empty desk next to Jeff's desk, and sat down beside him, though she struggled to sit in her current rounded state. "I know things are harder for you, Jeff, because you have to do all your spells silently, in your head, but that's what makes you so special. That's why you're here, at my school this year, instead of at Hogwarts. Only rare students can do silent magic at such a young age. Don't worry about charms, you'll get it eventually."

She placed her arm around his shoulders, even as he closed his book. He looked at her stomach and then did a series of motions with his hands. "Slow down," she begged, "Even if I was the one to teach you sign language, you're faster than I am. Ask me again."

Using Muggle sign language, Jeff signed: _"__**What are you doing for Christmas?"**_

Hermione rubbed his back with her hand and replied, "Nothing special. My parents want me to come to their house, and so do a few of my friends. I think I want to finish decorating my nursery. I haven't even put it to rights yet, and the baby's crib isn't even together. At this point, the baby will have to sleep in a laundry basket, if I don't get things together. I think I'll work on the nursery."

"_**For Christmas?"**_ he signed, shock on his face.

She nodded, with a smile. "Yes, I think it's time." Thinking about it again, she decided her earlier obsession with time most certainly had nothing to do with getting her nursery ready for the baby, but she could pretend it did. "What about you and Marie? I heard from Harry that your Mum was getting better everyday. I know she's still at St. Mungo's. Are you planning on seeing her?"

Jeff shrugged. Then he signed: _**"I hope to see her. She wants to see us. I miss her and my sister a lot. Sometimes I wish Marie and I went to the same school."**_

"Marie loves school," Hermione stated, it wasn't a question. "She writes me all the time."

Jeff signed:_**"She writes to me all the time, too. She has a boyfriend."**_

Hermione made a funny face, as did Jeff. "Cheeky little thing. How dare she have a boyfriend and not tell me! I wonder what Draco makes of that?" she asked, conversationally. "Well, speaking of Draco, you should get your coat and bag, young man, because I happen to know Mrs. Jenkins' waiting for you out front. Draco's probably pacing the halls at home, bellowing to everyone, wondering where you are, so I'll walk you outside."

He shook his head no and in his silent way, pointed his finger toward the corner of the room. Hermione didn't turn her head around to see why he was pointing his finger. In her heart, she already knew. She closed her eyes, took a deep, long breath, and then said to Jeff, "Traitor. You should have told me he was there."

Jeff signed: _**"It's time you talk to him. Happy Christmas, Hermione."**_He grabbed his coat and bag and ran out of the classroom, then out of the school, where Draco's housekeeper, Mrs. Jenkins, was indeed waiting for him.

Inside the small classroom, in the corner, _waiting for her_, was Draco Malfoy. As ever, Jeff was right. It was time.

Pushing himself away from the corner, he sat down on top of the small desk beside her, his leg touching her arm. She didn't look up at him. Instead, she drew little circles on top of the table with her finger. In the last four months, she had seen him four times. The last time she saw him, he told her he wouldn't seek her out again.

She reminded him of that. "The last time I saw you, you told me you wouldn't seek me out again. You said if I ever wanted to see you again, I would have to come find you."

"I guess I lied again, but I swear, it's the last time I'll ever lie to you. I really couldn't stay away this time," he responded. Looking closely, he could see that she was nervous. He brushed her hair away from her shoulders, his long fingers caressing the bare skin of her neck.

"Why couldn't you stay away?" she asked dully, in a small voice, though she didn't edge away from him, even as he leaned over her closer.

"Because, Granger, I decided it was time." She looked up at him, surprised, and he looked down at her, and smiled.

After his confession to her at St. Mungo's, she had seen him only four times in the last four months, if she counted seeing him today.

The first time was right after she left the hospital, when she met him and the children to help purchase their things for Hogwarts. Things were strained between them that day, but for the sake of Marie and Jeff, they put in the appearance of being friendly, but not in love, even though they weren't one, but were the other – being that they were still in love, but they certainly weren't friendly.

Two weeks later, she saw Draco again, when he came to her in the middle of the night. He was frantic, because young Jeffrey, who had been sorted into Gryffindor, had run away from Hogwarts. Harry and the other Aurors eventually found him. He had run away all the way to Hagrid's cabin.

After many discussions with the headmistress, Anthony Goldstein, and Draco, Hermione offered the services of her school to the child. Many things weighed heavily on her decision. When he was tested for Hogwarts, it was decided at that time that he was extremely gifted. It was also decided that he needed extensive therapy, and Anthony could provide him that at her school. Harry concluded that Jeff cursed himself into not speaking the night his father died, (meaning Draco was absolved of all blame) a thought shared by Adrian Pucey, an Unspeakable who was well acquainted with the case concerning Jeff's mother, who apparently had cursed herself into not speaking when she was young.

Therefore, a child who held that sort of magical ability was better suited for a school such as Hermione's than an education at Hogwarts, so she and her staff began to teach him, with the caveat that she would not have to deal with Draco directly. Whenever anyone had to speak with him, another staff member, or Padma Patil, did the honours.

The third time she saw him was on all Hallow's Eve, after a program at the school. Almost 30 weeks pregnant, she was feeling better than she had felt in months, so she oversaw the program the children produced at school. Harry had come for support, as had Anthony. When the program was over, and the party afterwards was dying down, Padma told Hermione to go on home, knowing she was tired, telling her she would lock up the school for the night, securing all the windows and doors. As Hermione was leaving, she saw Marie and Draco standing at the bottom of the stairs, talking with Harry, who had his hand on Jeff's shoulder.

She felt a pang in her chest. She wanted to go down and hug Marie, but she didn't want to see Draco again. She didn't know why. Perhaps she was punishing him for his lies, because she couldn't punish Charles for dying. As ridiculous as that sounded, that thought permeated her brain more and more. And Draco was responsible for Charles' death, though she hardly wanted him to feel guilty for it.

If Charles had told her goodbye that morning, would things have been different? Would she have been able to mourn him adequately?

If Draco had been truthful from the very beginning, would she still have felt guilty loving him?

She would never know.

Marie took that moment to raise her head and glance up the stairs. Squealing in delight, she ran up the stairs toward Hermione, and hugged her tightly. Then the young girl delivered Hermione a bombshell.

"They found my mother! She's alive! Harry just told us! She's at St. Mungo's hospital."

Hermione swayed.

Before she knew it, Draco rushed up the stairs, wrapped his arms around her, and ushered her back down again. Then she listened, watching Draco's calm acceptance, as Harry explained how they found Tracey, and how she was in St. Mungo's, and how she might never be well again, and how the Ministry had granted Draco full custody of the children, but that Harry was going to take the children to see her the next weekend.

After that announcement, she felt numb. She felt horror, dread, and numbness. She knew Draco felt it, too. Shaking by the time Harry finished speaking, she tried to act as if it were truly the happy news that both Marie and the quiet Jeff seemed to believe it to be. Hugging the children, she bade them both farewell, then went to her own house.

Unable to sleep that night, she gazed out the garden window and thought only of Draco. With her hands on her stomach, rubbing it up and down, she felt sorry for him. She knew she should show a measure of pity for all that Tracey (or Mary if one would) had endured during the last few months. She should feel sorry for all that Charles had lost by dying, and for the children, but she could only feel sorry for Draco.

This in turn made her angry with him again. That was when she saw it. Someone was moving outside her house. It was clearly a man, and he was walking along the back garden. Then he sat down in a chaise lounge on her patio.

It was Draco.

Aware she was in only a nightgown and a dressing robe, she opened the sliding doors and went out the back. "What are you doing here?" she asked. "Where are the children?"

"Marie went back to Hogwarts, and Mrs. Jenkins is with Jeff," he said, staring off into the dark night. "Come sit beside me, Hermione." He patted the small space beside him.

"I won't fit. And I don't want to. Oh, Draco. Go away. You're mad. Leave." Inside she was saying, _"Yes, I love you. I'm sorry. I love you. I forgive you. I'm sorry."_

Swinging his legs around to the side of the chair he asked, "When are you ever going to forgive me for everything?"

"You're forgiven, now leave," she offered flippantly.

"Granger!" He stood up and pulled on her hands. "Why are you like this? I love you. I want to be with you!" Then a beat later he said, "What if I lose the children? I know you felt the same terror I felt when Potter told us about finding Tracey tonight."

Her heart broke for the man. Something about his grey eyes in the moonlight and his silver hair, along with his painful expression, broke her resolve. She grasped his hands, pulled him back down to the chair, and said, "Oh, Draco, you won't. She's apparently not a well woman. And the thing is there's enough love in those children for everyone. They can love their mother; they do love her, and still love you, too. You won't lose them."

"I lost you," he said sadly.

She let out a moan. "Oh, Draco, that's different. You know that's different."

"And I lost this baby, too," he continued.

She pushed away from him, struggling to stand with her rounded body. "This baby was never yours to lose," she huffed, turning her back on him.

Coming up behind her, he pulled on her hair, gently, and then turned her around. "I've missed you, sweetheart." Placing his hands on her cheeks, he kissed her mouth softly. She allowed it. "I love you."

"Oh, Draco. You're stupid!" She pushed him hard.

He held onto her arms to keep from falling. "Stop saying, Oh, Draco. And I do love you, and apparently that makes me very stupid." He moved his arms from her arms, around to the small of her back, pulling her closer to him. When her stomach was up against his, he stopped and said, "I do love you. I love you both."

She wanted to push him away again. She wanted to tell him he was stupid again, that she didn't care, that the baby wasn't his (even though she wished it were) and that he needed to go.

Instead, she placed her hands behind his neck, and just as she had done that time in his garden, she pulled his head to hers and she kissed him, hard, and he tasted like everything that ever mattered in her life. He tasted like everything that was right, not wrong. He tasted like he tasted months ago, and she craved him just as much now as she did then.

Trembling, she arched into him, and he kissed her back. She decided right then that she wanted to make love to him again. She was bigger than a hippogriff, they were once again outdoors, it was cold, and they hadn't really spoken to one another, of any consequence, for months. It didn't matter. She wanted him, one last time.

Never before had she wanted a man the way she wanted him. She was aware that her body was different from before, but still she felt beautiful, and he apparently thought she was, because he was soon on his knees before her, and he pulled her down to the ground.

Arranging the pillows from the outdoor furniture beside them, he quickly helped her to remove her gown and robe, and then set her back among the pillows. She swallowed, wondering what he must be thinking. She said, "I know I don't look the same."

He thought she looked more beautiful than he recalled. Her breasts looked rounded and stunning. Her stomach glorious. Without comment to her statement, he lowered his mouth to lips, kissed her hard and long, as his hand smoothed over her breasts, down her stomach, and beyond.

He knelt beside her, paid homage to her breasts, told her she was beautiful in actions and words, and after they made love, he wrapped her in his coat, held her in his arms, and they watched as a fallen star streaked through the sky. Then he made a wish without telling her, and he prayed it would come true.

With his hand on her stomach, he felt a movement. "What's that?" he asked.

"The baby," she answered.

He bit the inside of his cheek, to keep from saying something utterly stupid, (also known as Draco Malfoyish) to that statement. Finally, he fell asleep, and when he awoke, his coat was thrown over his body, his arms were empty, and she was gone. To hell with wishing on shooting stars.

He left her a note that morning telling her that the next time they met would be up to her, because although he couldn't stand the thought of losing her and her baby again, he also couldn't stand the thought of losing himself to her.

She read the note and cried.

Now, here he was, silently sitting on top of a child's desk, his leg beside her arm, his hand playing with strands of her hair, fingertips on her neck. Moreover, he was true to his word. He was waiting for her to make the next move, just as he warned her in October.

It was time.

It was time for Hermione to stop being so stubborn.

It was time for Hermione to forgive Charles for dying.

It was time for Hermione to forgive Draco for lying.

It was time for Hermione to forgive the baby in her stomach for causing such a storm in her teacup.

And, well, if the sharp pain in her side was any indication of anything, it was merely just time for the baby to come.

* * *

_Only one more chapter to go!_


	30. Chapter 30

All characters belong to JK Rowling

**Chapter 30 – A Storm in a Teacup, the Final Chapter**

Sitting in a chair by the window, Hermione watched a streak of light on the floor disappear as a storm brewed up outside. It was one of those odd thunderstorms that came in the middle of winter, bringing with it sheets of rain, murderous lightning, and loud, crashing thunder. She pulled the bundle in her arms closer when the first loud bang played across the sky, and the windowpanes shook and rattled in their casings.

"It's nothing but a storm, sweet one," she whispered. "It's your birthday, and you brought a thunderstorm with you. Everything about your arrival, from the day you were conceived, to the day I found out about you, to the day I told everyone you were on your way, to the day you were born, was one, long thunderous storm in my teacup, sweet thing."

"When I was little, and things didn't go exactly as I planned, or exactly as I wanted them to go, my dad would say that I had a storm brewing in my teacup. You, my sweet son, were the biggest storm my teacup had seen in ages."

She kissed the child's baldhead and smiled. "I can barely believe I thought having you would be a mistake. I can't believe I thought things would be better without you. By the way, this is the only time I'll ever say these words to you, not that it matters, as Mummy was terribly wrong anyway. You, my sweet, little boy, are the greatest thing I've ever done, my brightest accomplishment, and this is the happiest day of my life. Thank you for picking me to be your Mummy. I'm honoured."

Draco leaned forward, pressing on the arm of the rocking chair with one hand while bringing his other arm around her shoulders, agreed. "You're the best thing to happen to me, too, little prince. I won't have your mummy have you believe she's the only one who's gobsmacked by your very existence. I'm honoured as well, because of all the people who could have been picked to be your replacement father, in some weird cosmic way, you've picked me." He stilled the movement of the chair, back and forth, back and forth, when he leaned forward to kiss first the infant's cheek, and then the mother's head.

"May I hold him now?" Marie asked from her place on the bed. "I've been here for an hour, and I've yet to hold him. And I've been patiently listening to both of you prattle on and on with all the sentimental rubbish, too. It's making me a bit weary."

"Weary my arse. I hope what its really doing is showing you that you'd better not have a kid until you're old enough to handle it, missy!" Draco pointed at her.

"What? Old enough, how? Like thirty years old, because we both know how well you've two have handled things," she said with a crooked smile, holding out her hands for her baby brother.

"How'd you get here, anyway? Who invited you?" Draco asked, picking the child up from Hermione's arm, and lowering him into his half sister's waiting embrace.

"Harry promised us last fall that as soon as the baby was born, he'd come and get Jeff and I, no matter when, no matter where," Marie explained. "That's how I got here, as you well know. Thank goodness for Harry Potter, or I'd be anxiously wondering and waiting up at Hogwarts all by myself. Now be quiet, Draco. I don't want to talk to you anymore. I'm holding my brother."

Draco frowned, while Hermione smiled.

"Potter takes a lot of liberties with my family," Draco replied.

Hermione pulled on Draco's sleeve and said, "It's fine, Draco."

He turned to look at her. "You're only saying that because it's St. Potter. If anyone else was that high-handed, you'd be indignant, too." He lifted her gingerly from the rocking chair, sat down in her place, and then placed her on his lap.

"First he finds their mother, last fall, without telling me that he was even looking for her, and now this. On the first matter, I'd have been happier if she'd stayed gone," he complained.

Hermione placed her hand over his mouth and gestured toward the bed, where Marie sat holding the new baby.

"Oh, in the words of Hermione Granger, pish posh, she knows I'm not thrilled about it all. After Potter finds the woman, whom we all assumed was missing, perhaps even dead, we find she was presumably in St. Mungo's the whole time, confused as to who she was, no longer talking, just as she'd been when she was a child! Then, he has the audacity to take them to visit her!"

"Can you spell audacity?" Hermione asked, placing her head on his shoulder, pulling on the buttons of his shirt with her fingers.

"How is that pertinent?" he charged.

She said, "I'm just wondering. I'm making small talk. I'm tired, after twelve hours of labour, and I don't feel like arguing, but if you can spell audacity, I'll let you continue to grumble."

"A…H..Audacity..A…L…D…No, I don't think that's right, A…U…D…well, anyway, he had the nerve to take them to visit her, and she still doesn't even know them! She still doesn't know she's a witch even, and to top it all off, she can't even speak to this day!"

"Draco," Hermione said, before she kissed the side of his neck, "Don't you think she has the right to heal, and don't you think that by allowing her to heal, it might help heal Jeffrey?"

"Jeff's fine," Draco barked.

"Yes, he's doing wonderfully," Hermione agreed, looking up at Marie, and noticing that she was watching them, hanging onto every word. "But he's still not able to talk, and there's no real reason for it. He's not talking yet, because he doesn't want to talk. Harry, Adrian and Anthony all believe that he has to reverse the curse on himself, you know. That's what Tracey did the first time, when she started to speak again, when she was a girl."

Draco looked at Marie, who suddenly looked back down at the newborn baby. "My father's looking into a counter-curse. Don't worry about Jeff. I'll take care of my children, Hermione."

Marie openly sighed at that remark. She looked at Draco and said, "Will you never learn to keep your mouth close?"

Hermione got off Draco's lap and said, "Does that mean I have no say?"

"Do we have to have THIS conversation right now? Aren't you tired? You just went through twelve hours of labour. A moment ago you said you were tired, and now you want to have an argument! I thought women were tired after those types of things."

Marie stood up with the baby in her arms. "Lucius and Narcissa are out in the waiting room, along with Hermione's parents. I think I'll take the baby out to them. Is that okay?" Without waiting for an answer, she walked out the door, baby in her arms.

Hermione went back to the bed, pulled down the covers, and got under them. She was tired, but she wouldn't give Draco the satisfaction of thinking he was right, so she didn't say anything. Instead, she said, "We didn't resolve anything, did we? All that happened was that I had a baby, but you and I are still at the same place, and I don't even know where that is. Where are we, Malfoy?"

"St. Mungo's Hospital for the Temporarily Insane, it would appear," Draco teased. "May I sit beside you?"

She shrugged.

He sat next to her and took her hand. "I'm sorry. Of course, things that happen with the children will concern you. I want you to be part of their lives, just as I want to be part of that little bugger's life. By the way, what's the bugger's name?"

"Little Bugger," she joked.

"I like it, except everyone will assume he's named after Potter, and I can't have that, especially after you marry me and I adopt him," Draco countered, "so we best find something else."

"Marriage and adoption, goodness, I didn't know I'd have to face such big things on the day I gave birth," she said lightly, and then she yawned.

He took her hand. "Be thankful you don't have to face taxes and death today as well. Those are the other two big life changing experiences, you know." Playing with her fingers lightly, finally bringing them up to his mouth for a kiss, he said, "I'd like to name him something strong, but also something that will help us remember the struggles we went through while you were preggers with him."

She looked up at the ceiling for a moment, feigned thinking hard, and said, "We fought a lot while I was pregnant. We could name him after a pugilist."

Mocking her from earlier, he said, "Can you spell pugilist, darling?"

"F – I – G – H – T – E – R," she joked.

Smiling at her, he said, "That's not a half bad idea. We could call him Sugar Ray Malfoy." He laughed.

Laughing with him, she said, "I was thinking of Tyson. I don't know why, but I always thought that would make a good first name for a son. Actually, I wanted to call the baby that even if it was a girl."

Draco seemed to think on it for a few seconds, then cupped her cheeks with his hands, and said, "Okay, Tyson Malfoy he shall be." He kissed her lips swiftly.

"He would be Tyson Granger. I'd want his middle name to be Warrington by the way."

Frowning, Draco said, "Warrington's fine, but that Granger thing's only at first, but after we marry, and this does count as a marriage proposal, then I insist that he have my last name, because I'm already spending a fortune on adopting those other two Warrington brats, I might as well adopt this one, too."

"You're such a romantic," she said with another yawn. "I'm really tired now. Let me rest. In case you're too dense to know what that means, it means yes, I'll marry you, but I want another endowment for my school before we finalize the agreement and a large engagement ring, preferably diamonds and rubies."

"Demanding things, Granger! Do you know what that makes you?" he asked, his voice at a loud pitch, as he walked toward the door.

"An opportunist? A wise woman? What?"

"I was going to say a prostitute, selling yourself for money and diamonds, but you can call it whatever you want, Granger dear, as long as you're mine," he said, his hand on the door knob, turning to leave the room.

He felt a pillow hit him on the back of the head. Turning back to face her, she said, "Be happy I couldn't reach anything heavier to throw at you, and that I didn't have my wand."

Bending down, he tossed the pillow back to her, and said, "I love you."

"I love you."

"Gee, so simple to say, yet we found it so very difficult. I'll go find Marie and Tyson."

Draco walked out into the hallway and found his family in the waiting room at the end. Hermione's parents were sitting beside his parents, who were sitting along with her friends, who were sitting with Marie. His father was holding the baby.

Lucius said, "I'm sure they'll give him a dignified name, something from our side of the family, in the tradition of our family, regarding a constellation."

Hermione's mother said, "Knowing Hermione as we do, she'll give him a very proper British name, or name him after a famous author or poet, or a name from a famous play or piece of literature."

Draco smiled. What would everyone think when they found out they named him after an African American prizefighter with a giant tattoo on his face? Perhaps there was a famous character in literature named Tyson, too? And he could always tell his father that they had just found a new star named that.

Catching Potter's attention, he waved his hand toward the hall. Harry excused himself and joined Draco out in the hallway.

"Where's Jeff?" Draco asked.

Suddenly, Harry's smile vanished. "He's not with you?"

"Goodness, Potter! Granger and I were in there, in labour, for the last twelve hours, and you've already lost one of our kids!" Draco spat, in almost a whisper, so no one could hear.

"You were both in labour?" Harry asked, sarcastically, "And he's not lost, I'm sure he's around here somewhere! I'll take the lower floors, and you take…" suddenly, Harry stopped. "Damn, I know where he is. Come on." He grabbed the sleeve of Draco's shirt and pulled him toward the lifts.

They ran down the hallway toward a set of doors that were locked on the outside. A guard approached them, nodded to Harry, and greeted, "Good morning, Mr. Potter. It's awfully early for visitors."

"Yes, it is, Langston. I've been here all evening and all night long. My best friend gave birth a few hours ago. Tell me, is Tracey Davis' son here, visiting her, by any chance?"

The older man nodded, while saying, "The quiet boy? Yes, he's here, and since he's visited with her before, when you were with him, I didn't see the harm. She doesn't get many visitors, you know. Really, none at all, except when you bring her kids to her."

Draco felt slightly ashamed, and sorry for her.

"I'll open the doors and you can go on through the wards. You know what door is her room, right?" the man asked.

Harry nodded and smiled.

The doors opened and Harry and Draco walked through. After passing four rooms, they finally stopped upon the threshold of the fifth room. Just inside the room was Jeff, sitting upon the bed beside a woman with dark hair, their backs toward the door.

And Jeff was speaking to the woman.

Both men stood in silence. A sob in Harry's throat, a heavy weight upon Draco's chest, as the young boy they've both grown to care for, began to speak to the woman sitting beside him. Holding the woman's hand in his, he was saying, "And this is how you make the letter 'Y' in sign language. That's your name, Mother. Next time, I'll teach you more. Sign language is really quite easy, and that way, if you decide you never want to talk again, at least we can communicate with each other that way."

Draco started into the room, but Harry placed a hand on his arm, to hold him back. Still unaware of their presence, Jeff said, "And remember, Mother, no matter what, you'll always be our mother. That's what Hermione told us. We can live with Draco, and love him, and even if they get married someday, and you find that you can never take care of us again, you'll still always be our mother."

"See, there was no reason to ever fear magic, Mother. It's really okay." He placed his dark head on top of the woman's shoulder. She reached up and stroked his hair, lovingly.

He stood, and for the first time, noticed Harry and Draco. Smiling at them, then back at the woman on the bed, he said, "I have to go now, Mother. I need to go meet my little brother. I love you." Leaning down, he kissed her forehead. "I'll come back next weekend to see you again, if Harry brings me."

"That I will," Harry said from the door.

Jeff walked out of the room, and soon, all three were walking back down the hall, Jeff between Harry and Draco. Draco looked over Jeff's head, toward Harry, with a confused look on his face.

Harry shrugged.

Draco motioned toward his own mouth, then toward Jeff, then back toward Harry.

Stopping outside the end of the ward, Harry asked, "Jeff, how long have you been able to speak?"

"Since I went to visit my mother, to tell her about my baby brother," he explained, looking from one man to another. "I didn't know if anyone else was going to tell her, and I felt someone should, so I did. She had a right to know. She was always good a mother, no matter what anyone thought. She had problems, and she never wanted us to know about magic, but she was still a good mother, when she could be."

Draco rubbed his eyes with one hand, then grabbed the boy's shoulders with both hands and said, "It's nice to finally hear you speak again, kid."

"I wasn't going to tell anyone," he replied.

"Tell anyone what?" Harry asked in Draco's place.

"That I could speak again," Jeff explained. "I don't want to go to Hogwarts yet. My mother never wanted to go back, that's why she stopped speaking when she was little. She was afraid if she spoke again, she'd have to use magic, and they'd send her back to Hogwarts. I don't want to go to Hogwarts. I want to stay at Hermione's school."

"Did your mum tell you that?" Harry inquired.

"No, but I know it's true," he said without a doubt.

Draco took Jeff into his arms in a hug that surprised all three of them. "Kid, you can go to school anywhere you want. I'm not taking a chance on losing any of you again. Not you, Marie, Hermione or Tyson. You're all my family."

"Who's Tyson?" Jeff asked, pushing away from Draco's chest.

"Come back down the hall and find out," Draco replied, taking Jeff's hand in his. They walked down the hall, hand-in-hand, to the lifts and then to the waiting room, with Harry right behind them.

In a chair, surrounded by family and friends, was Hermione Granger. On her lap was her newborn son, Tyson. Sitting on one side of them was Marie, and walking toward her was the rest of her family, Jeff and Draco. It had even stopped storming outside. So it was really, finally, happily, _**the end.**_


End file.
